


Agent Laura

by Simply_marvellous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fixing AOU, Laura's a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 74,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simply_marvellous/pseuds/Simply_marvellous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Laura bothered me in AOU, as it did a lot of people. So I'm fixing it. In my head this is how it went. Laura was an agent, that's how they met, and she hasn't forgotten how to kick ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint saw the woman coming around the edge of the tent, but he continued to fire, doggedly clustering the arrows in the center of the target set up across the empty field. After the average distances the tent allowed he had to challenge himself somehow.  
  
He’d seen her in the audience. Pretty girls his age tended to catch his eye, although seeing her moving toward him he suddenly had the feeling that despite her smooth face and trendy clothing she was older than him. There was an air of authority to the way she walked, and the grace in her step was more the sort of thing he was accustomed to seeing in the acrobats and dancers that the circus employed.  
  
While he liked the acrobats, had in fact been threatened by more than a few fathers, the authority screamed trouble to him. Add that to the fact that she was playing a part and he wanted nothing to do with this girl/woman.  
  
She walked up well in his sight line but didn’t interrupt, settling herself on a bale of hay apparently with the intention of watching him. He ignored her as long as he could, emptying his quiver, before he had to go to retrieve his arrows. “You’re pretty good,” she said as he went toward the target.  
  
“That’s why they pay me,” he said quickly, hurrying out of earshot.  
  
She didn’t move to follow, and he bought some time by putting up a fresh target but for some reason she was still sitting in the full sun, sweat forming on her cheeks when he returned.  
  
“How are you with a gun?’ she asked conversationally.  
  
“Dunno,” he lied. “How are you?”  
  
She stood then. He glanced at her as she stepped forward, within reach of him. Suddenly she turned, pulling a handgun from the back of her (tight, bedazzled) jeans. While he was trying to figure out where exactly she had had room to hide the moderately sized handgun she raised her arms in a practiced move and fired four shots.  
  
  
  
Clint’s eyebrows rose. The four holes weren’t dead center but they were clustered tightly in the middle of the target. At that distance it was an impressive shot to say the least.  
  
“If you’re looking for a job, I’m not the one that you try out for.”  
  
She laughed, shaking her head. She offered him the gun. “Seriously, give me a demonstration.”  
  
He looked at her. “You’re giving me a loaded gun?”  
  
“You can let me hold your bow if it makes you feel better.” He looked at her. She looked levelly back.  
  
“Who are you?” he asked.  
  
“Fire off a few shots for me and I’ll tell you,” she responded.  
  
He took the gun, turning it to study it. “I know there’s a catch here.”  
  
“Sort of,” she agreed. “I promise not to spring the trap until you agree.”  
  
With a shrug he turned and fired a few shots. They still hit the center but they were a touch wide of her shots. He shrugged as he handed the gun back. “I’m better with the bow.”  
  
“Yeah, but I’d bet a sniper rifle with a scope could close that gap,” she said thoughtfully.  
  
“Who are you?” he asked.  
  
She produced a leather wallet (seriously, where was she stowing this stuff?) which he flipped open. The ID with a picture that could have been her older sister was topped with the letters S.H.I.E.L.D. “Laura Beddington,” he read.  
  
“Agent Beddington,” she said with a nod.  
  
He turned to look at the badge. A stylized eagle with the words ‘STRATEGIC HOMELAND INTERVENTION ENFORCEMENT LOGISTICS DIVISION’ surrounded it.  
  
“What the fuck is SHIELD?” he asked.  
  
“We’re a clandestine espionage group,” she said.  
  
“I’ve never heard of them.” He offered her the wallet back. He was impressed despite himself when he wasn’t sure where it disappeared to despite his experience with slight of hand.  
  
“We wouldn’t be much of a spy agency if every carnie archer knew about us.” She grinned. “I’m here to change that. We’d like to offer you a job.” She glanced at the bow in his hand. “Even if you don’t want a rifle imagine what you could do with real, top-of-the-line, military-grade equipment.”  
  
“They don’t make BOWS like that,” he pouted.  
  
“Oh, they do,” she said. “And we have our own design team. You could help create one.”  
  
“Me?” he said. “Designing expensive military grade weapons?”  
  
She chuckled. “Sounds like fun doesn’t it?”  
  
He opened his mouth to respond when he caught sight of Trick Shot stomping his way toward them. “Sorry,” he murmured to her.  
  
“Why?” she asked, watching the man approach.  
  
“This is going to be…unpleasant.”  
  
She snickered. “For him maybe.”  
  
“What the FUCK is going on back here?!?” he demanded. “Did I hear a gun?”  
  
“Just some target practice,” the agent said, motioning toward the holes in the target.  
  
“Who the fuck are you?” Before she could answer he had his finger in her face. “You aren’t allowed back here. Get the fuck out of here little girl.”  
  
She stiffened her eyes narrowed, and suddenly she was grabbing Trick Shot’s finger, twisting with a sickening crack, grabbing his wrist and spinning again to put him onto the ground and step onto his throat with time to draw the gun and aim it right between the eyes. “It’s not little girl,” she ground out. “It’s AGENT Beddington. Who could but three bullets between your eyes, claim it was self defense, and walk out of here while the mop team plops you into an unmarked grave in a cow pasture. You might consider that next time you go to investigate gunshots.” She glanced up at Clint. “I think I’ve outstayed my welcome. We can talk later.” With that she stepped off of his throat, stowed the gun, threw her hair over her shoulder, and walked out of the grounds with a hypnotic hip-swaying gate.  
  
“The FUCK?!?” Trick Shot spit, sitting up to rub his throat, then look forlornly at his purpling finger. “How the fuck are we going to pull off the job tonight with my hand all shot to hell?”  
  
Clint shrugged. “Maybe should have thought of that before you got in her face.”  
  
He glared at Clint. “So what, some hotshot chick with a fake badge wonders up and you’re suddenly too big for your britches?” he demanded. “Keep your mouth shut, shit-for-brains. Save your energy for the job tonight.” He pointed after her. “And if she comes back you better get her the fuck off the grounds before I see her.”  
  
Clint bit his tongue to avoid asking if he was afraid she’d break his arm. He waited until he had turned away to roll his eyes and draw an arrow, allowing himself to imagine for just a moment what it would be like to be sighting the target with a high tech bow he’d just finished designing himself.  
  
****************************************************  
  
The whole thing went balls up almost right away. The truth is the moment they got in the facility they were robbing they should have known this wasn’t going to work and turn around and leave. They certainly shouldn’t have continued to split up until none of them knew where the other was or what was happening.  
  
And when the sirens started going off it turned into a massive clusterfuck. At some point Clint decided to screw the job, although not as soon as he should have, and just try to get out without getting caught.  
  
It never would have worked if Agent Laura Beddington hadn’t burst onto the scene, gun firing just as he turned a corner toward and found three security officers with drawn guns blocking him.  
  
He had to blink as she turned the corner behind them and fired point-blank, all three officers folding to the floor. “Come on!” she called from behind them.  
  
“You shot them!” he yelled, staring in shock.  
  
“Relax, they’re sedative bullets.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I told you we were ahead of the curve,” Laura said, waving him forward. “Come on, they can’t get a lot of juice into the small bullets, they aren’t going to be out long.”  
  
He climbed over them, glancing over his shoulder as one of them stirred. “Did your agency send you in here to get me?”  
  
“Not exactly,” she said.  
  
“So what was the plan supposed to be?”  
  
She hit the door, leading him toward the north fence. “Might have involved letting you get arrested, springing you, and threatening to turn you into the police if you don’t cooperate.”  
  
“That…was a pretty good plan. You got clearance to change it?”  
  
“They give us agents a lot of leeway. I have the feeling we aren’t going to need the threat.” She shrugged as she handed him a rope looped over the wall. “I can always take you into the police anyway, tell them you were part of it.”  
  
It only took moments for her to follow, retrieving the rope cutting it off where it was secured to a gate, looping it as she led him toward a huge black van. “Besides, the rest of your group is going to get picked up.” She waved him into the passenger seat as she settled into the driver’s seat, unhurriedly stowing the rope behind her. “Your sign-on bonus could spring them with a nice amount left over. Although I hope not for the jackass whose finger I broke.”  
  
He glanced back at the police cars as she pulled into traffic. “My brother is back there.”  
  
She nodded. “Him for example.”  
  
“How much is the sign-on bonus?”  
  
She snickered. “Don’t you want to know what you need to do?”  
  
He shrugged. “Does it really matter?”  
  
“What if I sign you into a ten-year contract?”  
  
He paused. “You don’t really know what I can do. Ten years is one hell of a contract for an unknown.”  
  
She shook her head. “SHIELD has been watching you. They know what they’re getting. They’re guessing they’re going to get a lot more than you suspect.”  
  
“How long is the contract?” She pulled smoothly into traffic, shifting between cars so tightly he had to grab the overhead bar. “Who taught you to drive?”  
  
She chuckled. “SHIELD. Tactical driving is part of basic. I showed an aptitude so I got into the more advanced class.” She shifted around a bus.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“Local hotel. Not much further. You’ll get a lot more information.”  
  
“How long is the initial training? Why aren’t your telling me?”  
  
“It’s hard to be sure. Technically, four months. There’s some group work, scheduling. They select the groups carefully. Could be six. If you suck it could be nine. I don’t think it’s going to be. But they start specializing, you get sucked in, nineteen months later you’re like what the fuck happened?” She grinned at him as she turned sharply right, suddenly crossing three lanes of traffic to pull up in front of a balcony. “And we’re here,” she announced, putting it in park and opening the door.  
  
He scrambled to follow, the valet coming around the car to get the keys. She tossed them to the man in the suit, unbuttoning the fitted black dress shirt she was wearing as she led him into the foyer. Awkwardly he swung his bow over his shoulder, shifting it next to the quiver, trying to tug his leather jacket closed to hide how ratty his t-shirt really was.  
  
She shrugged out of the shirt and folded it as she stepped onto the elevator, revealing a leather shirt with the eagle insignia above her right breast. She reached up to let her hair down from the tight pony tail, swinging her hair to let it fall, finger combing it.  
  
“Where are we going?” he asked.  
  
“Please God a room where they’ve ordered food,” she responded, stepping into the hall when the elevator beeped into place.  
  
Only five doors down she smoothly ran the card and stepped in. He had to hurry to stop the door from closing in his face.  
  
The room was large and spacious. A boy about his age was spread out on a couch watching a basketball game on a large television, feet propped up on the coffee table. He was dressed down, jeans and a t-shirt. To his right there was a kitchenette with a large table, spread with food.  
  
“Thank God,” Laura said, heading for the table. “TV off, Grey, time to work.”  
  
And older man in an immaculate suite, beginning to bald at the temples, turned away from the wall, phone to his ear. He ended the call quickly, watching Laura stuff food in her mouth. “You’re early.”  
  
She nodded, motioning toward the door, which he was admittedly skulking in. “Brought him.” She paused to swallow. “Come on Clint, help yourself to some food.”  
  
“If you wouldn’t mind leaving the weapon by the door,” he said. He turned to Laura. “You didn’t want to wait for the policed to pick him up?” Clint left the weapon propped carefully by the door, if tentatively, then came forward.  
  
Laura nodded to the man. “I didn’t see any point having to do more dealing with the cops to get additional charges expunged. May as well save us the time and energy.”  
  
“Expunged?” Clint repeated.  
  
“Obviously,” Laura said. “We can’t have our spies with records. Tends to attract attention we don’t want.” She dusted her hands “Clint, meet Senior Agent Coulson,” she said with a wave toward the older man, who offered him a hand to shake. “If you impress him he will be your handler. Senior Agents get first pick if they like the agents they recruit. Part of the benefits package.” She leaned close. “He’s worth impressing,” she whispered.  
  
“High praise,” Senior Agent Coulson said.  
  
“You deserve it.”  
  
“So you’re just recruitment?” he asked Laura.  
  
She shook her head as she filled a plate, but the senior agent put in, “Well, I was a teenage boy once. I had the feeling you’d respond better to her than me.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Before you go thinking I’m just a set of pretty eyes with a great ass, I happen to be psy ops. I’m doing your psychological evaluation.”  
  
“Agent Beddington will have her masters in psychology from Harvard…next year?”  
  
“That’s the plan,” she said, sitting down. “Unless SHIELD sends me off again.”  
  
Clint snorted. “And then what? PhD from Stanford?”  
  
“Hopefully Yale,” she said without missing a beat. “Kensey thinks I’m a shoe-in,” she added at Coulson’s raised eyebrow.  
  
“Doctoral Thesis in PTSD?” the agent asked as he settled next to her.  
  
“Unless something else strikes my fancy,” she said. “Grey, get over here,” she ordered, turning to throw something at him.  
  
“Ew,” he responded. “Ten minutes left.”  
  
“So it will take thirty with the time outs and penalties and horse shit. Get over here,” she ordered. She glanced up at Clint. “He’s fresh out of the trainee program. He’s going to give you the boots-on-the-ground information. Get a plate and settle in.”  
  
“You guys are sure giving me a lot of information considering you were planning to blackmail me with jail.”  
  
Coulson shook his head. “This is a choice, Mr. Barton. Make no mistake. You can leave now, or two months from now, or three years from now. But there won’t be surprises. The rules won’t change.”  
  
**************************************  
  
“Barton!” Barney actually jumped, looking up at the jailer who motioned him forward.  
  
“What’s up?” he asked as he approached. “Bail’s already been set, I know I’m not going to see a judge.”  
  
“Bail’s been paid,” the guard responded.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re getting out,” he said, opening the door. “Bail’s been paid.”  
  
“All of it?” he asked incredulously.  
  
“That’s the rumor.”  
  
“$10,000?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Is this a joke?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Who put you up to this?”  
  
“Your lawyer.”  
  
He snorted. “Now I know you’re joking. Lawyers don’t mess with two-bit thieves like me.”  
  
“You can tell her that,” he said with a shrug.  
  
“Her?” he repeated.  
  
He came around the corner and blinked, wondering if the cop had hit his head harder than he thought.  
  
She was a knockout. Even in a pencil skirt with her hair in a no-nonsense bun and a white silk button-down under a suit jacket. Even in-okay well the high heals were killer. They did nothing to tame the image.  
  
“Mr. Barton?” she greeted him, offering him a hand to shake. “I think you’re all set here.” She paused as an officer handed over a bag. “If you have everything?”  
  
“I don’t have to…sign anything or…”  
  
“I’ve taken care of all that,” she assured him. “This way.”  
  
He stumbled as he followed her out of the office. “Who hired you?”  
  
“Your brother,” she answered. “Sort of.” She walked over to a bus stop and then stopped to dig through her brief case. “I’m not really a lawyer.”  
  
“Then who are you?”   
  
“My name’s Laura.” She handed him a thick envelope. “I work for the organization that has retained your brother’s talents.”  
  
“Talents,” he repeated, turning the envelope over suspiciously. “Seriously, if you think he’s got talent you should see what I could-“ Her glare cut him off. “Okay, suit yourself.” He opened the envelope and whistled. “What the-“  
  
“That’s what’s left of your brother’s signing bonus,” she said, hefting her bag back onto her shoulder. “If you show up you can have the bail money too.”  
  
“Seriously?”  
  
“So he says. There’s a note in there.” She nodded toward the envelope. “It’s got an address. He’s not going to have access to a phone on a regular basis but if you want to communicate with him anything mailed to that address will get to him.”  
  
“WHO is he working for?”  
  
“Sorry, your clearance isn’t high enough.” She grinned over her shoulder. “Have a good day, Mr. Barton.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And continuing on, now we get some smut. Yay! I couldn't keep you waiting too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, explicit. Public sex scene. Enjoy.

“So,” Clint didn’t look up as someone settled next to him. His focus was entirely on the man he could see through his scope down the hill, moving carefully through the trees. “Hear you’re doing well.” He couldn’t be distracted. Not by pretty girls. He carefully did not move to look at her, but his peripheral vision was good. Red hair. Damn whoever leaked his obsession with red hair. “Most impressive trainee in ten years.” One foot trailed up his leg, turning to let him feel the ridiculously sharp, slim heel. How did she walk in the woods in those heels? She moved behind him, staying out of his target’s line of sight. Her hand ghosted across his lower back, along his arms, careful not to disturb his aim. She leaned close, he could feel all of her curves against him. “Breaking sniper records left and right.” Her hands moved, and suddenly they were just above his waistband. “Unshakable, they call you,” she whispered into his ear, lips brushing the shell of his ear, fingertips tracking lower. He breathed carefully, forcing his heart rate down. “That’s hot.” Her fingers ghosted lower.  
  
He pulled the trigger and the man below bellowed as green paint splattered across his lower back.  
  
The woman had the grace to pull back before raising her arms in the air and whoop. “Take that, Coulson,” she yelled down the cliff.  
  
He turned, trying to give them a withering look, but even at distance he could see him salute.  
  
He turned to see who SHIELD had sent to distract him and blinked at the redhead. “Laura?”  
  
She grinned at him. “Knew you could do it,” she said, smoothing his camo shirt. “Had a feeling about you.”  
  
He blinked. “I haven’t seen you in a year.”  
  
“Yeah. I’ve been busy. Masters remember?” She grinned. “You’ve been busy yourself.” She turned to look down the hill, shaking her head. “I don’t believe it. Tagged Coulson. No one’s managed that man in fifteen years.” She looked back at him. “Less than a year in training.”  
  
“Congratulations,” he said. She gave him a curious look. “Getting your Masters. That’s…something.”  
  
She snorted, waved her hand. “It’s nothing. Memorizing facts, spitting them back out. Thousands of people do it all the time. This.” She motioned down toward Coulson. “This is something. I’ll see you tonight. We’ll do some celebrating.”  
  
“Laura,” he called after her, glad to see her stumble a little. “Hold on to the wig.”  
  
She laughed. “You got it Hot Shot.”  
  
**************************************************************************  
  
He fidgeted. She refused to tell him what they where they were going. She’d said to dress casually, which helped. At least they weren’t going to some swanky restaurant with too many forks and a menu in French.  
  
He nearly swallowed his tongue when she came up. She had been dressed to catch his attention when she recruited him, and when she was out to distract him. But wearing a skirt that was long enough to be casual (and not nearly as short as he would have liked) and an (admittedly low-cut) t-shirt with her hair loose and a minimum of makeup she still made him want to pant like a dog, even without the wig.  
  
“Ready?” she asked, leading him toward the door.  
  
He nodded. “Want to tell me where we’re headed?”  
  
“I said it was a surprise,” she said.  
  
“I’m not a fan,” he admitted. Although when she shot him a dazzling smile he wished he could take it back. “That, it’s just, I’ve had enough unpleasant ones..”  
  
“If it’s unpleasant I’ll just have to find a way to make it up to you,” she answered, her eyes narrowing mischievously.  
  
“Well not I’m tempted to claim it’s unpleasant regardless.”  
  
“Don’t you dare!” she ordered, leading him onto the bus.  
  
“You don’t have a car?”  
  
“Is that so shocking?” She retrieved a box of candy out of her purse, offering him some.  
  
“I just thought, you’re an agent. I know how much you make.” He paused. “I mean I don’t but, I know about what you make. You could afford a car.”  
  
She shrugged. “I’d never be around to use it. The agency gets me where I’m going.”  
  
“What about when you visit home?”  
  
“I fly. Driving would take too long.”  
  
“Where are you from?”  
  
“The Midwest,” she said. “Iowa actually.”  
  
“No shit? Me too. I mean I was born there.”  
  
She chuckled. “I know.” He gave her a confused look. “I wrote your psychological profile. I know where you’re from.”  
  
“Oh. Of course.” He looked out the window, feeling stupid.  
  
“So tell me about the circus,” she requested.  
  
He gave her a curious look, then shrugged. “It’s not as much fun as it sounds.”  
  
“It’s been over a year. You don’t miss it at all?”  
  
“I do. Parts of it.”  
  
“What parts?”  
  
He considered. “The animals mostly. I love dogs.”  
  
“Dogs? What about the elephants and lions?”  
  
“The lion was ancient and didn’t leave the cage. Not that he could have done any damage. He could barely move. And the elephants were okay, but the dogs are smarter and more loyal.”  
  
She grinned. “You really are just a simple meat-and-potatoes, all-American boy aren’t you?”  
  
“Weren’t you supposed to know that already?”  
  
“I didn’t think they actually existed. It’s an act I get a lot.” He wrinkled his nose. “Hey, no, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.”  
  
“You think it’s a good thing?”  
  
She nodded. “I do. I come from a place that values that.”  
  
“I’d think a big shot psychologist/agent would be anxious to get away from that.”  
  
“No,” she said. “No no no. I love going back there. Someday, when I’ve had one too many injuries, or I’m too old, I look forward to sitting on the porch on an acreage out of the way.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“You don’t?”  
  
He shrugged. “I think I’m still figuring it all out. I like doing this.”  
  
She nodded. “That’s good. It wears on you. I think your day will come.” She patted his knee. “What else? What else do you like about the circus?”  
  
“The freedom was nice,” he admitted.  
  
She laughed. “You’re an agent now. You’ll get more of that back. They’ll have you on a looser leash.”  
  
“Looser.”  
  
“Sure. But your job is saving the world. When they need you the phone will ring. Hopefully you’ll see that and it will pay off. So what else?”  
  
“The tent,” he said. “The high wire acts. I liked to go up and sit on the acrobat’s swings.”  
  
“Did you ever perform with them?”  
  
“No. I just liked being up high. No one would think to look for me there. I could hide a little, see everything that was going on.”  
  
She laughed. “You seem to think you’re a bird of some kind.”  
  
He chuckled. “I guess.”  
  
“Good trait for a spy though. Before you even knew.” She paused to look out the window. “Okay, we’re off at the next stop.”  
  
“That wasn’t very far,” he said, watching the park approach.  
  
“Last week of training is harsh. I thought you might be tired.”  
  
He followed her off the bus and toward the park, stopping when he saw the red striped tent. Laura stopped, turning to bite her lip. “It’s not YOUR circus, but it’s been over a year. I thought you might be a little homesick. If you’d rather not…”  
  
“No,” he said. “I mean, yes. Yes I want to go. This is great.” A grin broke across his face as the mixed scent of animal dung and popcorn hit him and he went up to the gate at a trot.  
  
He tried to pay for the tickets, thinking how strange it was to PAY for something he’d been part of so long, but Laura already had the tickets. “Buy me a cotton candy,” she said when he argued that he had money. “And I gave all your money to your brother.”  
  
“That was my sign on bonus. I just passed basic. They handed me another wad of cash.” She snorted. “What?”  
  
“Your definition of that will change.”  
  
“You think?”  
  
“Wait until you pay for your first place in cash,” she chuckled.  
  
“Sounds like fun.” They headed toward the tent. She watched him studying the rigging. “You know what they’re going to do?”  
  
“I, well,” he shrugged. “Yeah.”  
  
“Did you ever help with that? Getting the tent up? Rigging? All that?”  
  
“Wasn’t supposed to but if we were shorthanded I’d pitch in.”  
  
“So you know how all that works? The knots and the tension?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“That’s cool,” she said. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for knowing stuff.”  
  
“I dropped out of school in eighth grade. I don’t know a lot.”  
  
She shrugged. “Our line of work, knowing how to write a book report on The Scarlett Letter isn’t going to help us out. Tension and ropes may. Sitting down and working out the math of the velocity you need to achieve to reach the next roof isn’t going to help you. Knowing how fast your legs have to be moving when you hit that ledge in order to make it takes experience, not geometry. You’re overestimating the value of a High School education. And I’m willing to bet no one in the High School you would have gone to will ever save half the lives you do in ”  
  
“Says the girl with a Masters, working on her PhD.”  
  
“Not all the answers can be found with a gun.” She shifted in the seat. “They can cause them. That doesn’t mean the job doesn’t need to be done.”  
  
He turned to look at her. “You knew someone.” She nodded. “Middle east?”  
  
She nodded again. “Thought I was supposed to be the shrink.”  
  
“Brother?”  
  
“Cousin. We were close though.”  
  
“Suicide?” She nodded again. “Sorry.”  
  
She sighed. “Lit a fire under me. Made me want to do for others. Who knows where I’d be if it weren’t for him.”  
  
He gave her a crooked smile. “I have the feeling you’d still be working for SHIELD.”  
  
“I have the feeling I’d be in the military because he drove me to the fucking office and signed me up.”  
  
“He was a believer huh?”  
  
“Right up until the end. He thought it was just him. I don’t know why, but he did. I don’t know why-“ She paused. “I guess I’m still looking for the answer to that one.”  
  
“Think it will come with the doctorate?”  
  
“Hope springs eternal.”  
  
He looked at her. “Who said that?”  
  
“God.” He looked at her. “It’s in Proverbs. ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast.’” He opened his mouth to say something but closed it. She smiled. “What were you about to say?”  
  
“Something about it depending on the breast, but then if you’re religious…”  
  
She laughed. “I’m not. I kill people for a living. Man upstairs made his view on that pretty clear. In his top ten and all.”  
  
“There have been an awful lot of wars waged by people that are pretty righteous.”  
  
“Spoken like someone who graduated from a world history High School course.” She paused. “Actually they wouldn’t point out something that controversial. College world history course, for sure. See, you know stuff.”  
  
“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes.  
  
“I’m not being sarcastic.”  
  
They fell silent for a moment. “What was his name?” Clint asked.  
  
“Jason. But there were 30 Jasons. His last name was Cooper, so that’s what everyone called him. Cooper or Coop.”  
  
He tried to think of something to say but he was saved by the drum roll.  
  
He spent most of the show watching her. He’d seen the acts a thousand times, the circus wasn’t anything that special. But she was sucked in from the moment the ring master stepped out. She gasped at the acrobats (which were somewhat impressive, probably more so as someone that knew what was required to pull off the tricks but didn’t have enough experience to actually do it). She applauded for the dog tricks and elephants. She laughed at the clowns with a sparkle in her eye.  
  
He was a little jealous. The applause, putting that light into her eyes. Roar of the crowd was addictive. His superiors at SHIELD were complimentary, but it was all on paper. It was more permanent, but it was nothing compared to a full house on their feet.  
  
She stayed sitting as the crowd filtered out. “Where now?” he asked.  
  
“Back stage,” she said.  
  
“You know they aren’t all as friendly as I was the first time we met. They don’t like strangers wandering around.”  
  
She laughed. “I have permission. I have a friend that works here.”  
  
“Well, in that case.” He followed her toward the back curtain, around the rings. One of the acrobats still in her sequined leotard waited there.  
  
“Fiona, meet Clint. Clint, this is Fiona. I’ve been trying to recruit her for SHIELD for years. Keeps turning me down flat.”  
  
“Why is that?” Clint asked as he shook her hand.  
  
“I like what I do here. I like the crowd, trust my companions. This is honest work.”  
  
“SHIELD wanted to make her a cat burglar,” Laura supplied at his curious look.  
  
“I’d be good at it,” she admitted. “But this is fun.”  
  
“Not much future here,” Clint pointed out.  
  
She shrugged. “Then maybe when I’ll join up when I’m older. At the moment this works for me.” Clint paused to pet the shepherd mix that came up to them wagging his tail so hard his back legs skidded in the loose straw. “So, now what would you like to do? Ride an elephant? Unicycle?”  
  
When he saw the excitement in Laura’s eyes he laughed. “Well I could get on an elephant. I helped with them at the old place but they wouldn’t usually let me ride one.”  
  
Fiona led them to where the trainer was walking the huge animals around. Laura took a moment to pet them, letting their trunks run over her fingers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring you any peanuts.”  
  
“That’s good,” the trainer said. “This one is allergic.”  
  
“No!” He nodded. “You poor thing. What a cruel trick.” She hugged the trunk, pressing her head to his front.  
  
The trainer laughed and motioned her back before getting him to kneel. The trunk continued to prod Laura as she climbed up. Clint laughed. “Man, you have made a new friend.”  
  
“Kabar is a gentleman,” the trainer said. “Would never let her fall.”  
  
“Thank you,” she said, patting his flank as she settled on his back and watched Clint climb up in front of her. “So have you EVER ridden one?”  
  
“Probably not in a few years,” he said, laughing when the elephant stood and she wrapped her arms around his waist with a squeak. “Have you ever ridden horses?”  
  
She nodded. “In High School. I had a friend who had them.”  
  
“It’s a little like that,” Clint said, swaying with the motion as the animal walked.  
  
“I disagree,” Laura said. “I can’t hold on with my thighs.”  
  
He shook his head. “Just move with him.” He put one hand on her arm, exaggerating the sway.  
  
She followed, getting the hang of it quickly.  
  
The trainer took them around the yard. “Had enough?” Fiona called up.  
  
“Never,” Laura called back. “But I suppose we should give him a break.”  
  
The elephant knelt again and Clint climbed slowly down, offering her a hand.  
  
“What else can I do for you?” Fiona asked.  
  
“You know, you can say no but I’d love to get into the top of the tent,” Clint said.  
  
“You’ve been up on the wires before?” she asked suspiciously.  
  
“All the time,” he assured her.  
  
“All right.” She led him back into the tent and to a rope ladder. He kicked off his shoes and socks and climbed. Laura was right behind him, and Fiona after.  
  
Clint climbed onto the platform, grinning down at the view below him. Laura sat on the edge of the platform and let her feet dangle. Clint grabbed the nearest bar and swung out to the next platform, turning and sending the swing back to Fiona. She tied it back up with a nod. Clint grabbed the next swing and sung out, waiting for it to still before he climbed up the rope to the cables supporting the tent. He climbed hand-over-hand until one dipped low enough for him to sit comfortably, and swung himself onto it. He grinned, swinging his legs.  
  
“Is he part bird?” he heard Fiona asked Laura.  
  
“Sort of looks like it doesn’t it?”  
  
They got to talking after that, catching up. He spent some time sitting there, then crawled around some more, taking different view points. Finally he climbed down the swing and Fiona tossed hers back to him.  
  
He climbed down behind her, taking her hand to help her the rest of the way down.  
  
“Anything else?” Fiona asked.  
  
“I’m good,” Clint said. “That was fun.”  
  
“Thank you, Fiona,” Laura said. “I’ll be in touch.”  
  
“I have your card,” Fiona said. “I never use it because you stalk me and turn up if I get within fifty miles of you.”  
  
“Travel safe.”  
  
“You too.”  
  
She turned and headed down the midway. “See anything you like?” he asked as they passed the various games.  
  
She laughed. “They’re all rigged. Your perfect aim won’t help with this.”  
  
“Unless you’ve worked these games and you know the tricks.” He grinned. “Seriously, pick something.”  
  
She shook her head. “Let’s ride the Ferris Wheel.” He wrinkled his nose. “You should like that. It’s high.”  
  
“It’s not THAT high,” he said.  
  
“Well bird boy will have to humor me.”  
  
“All right,” he chuckled, making his way toward the wheel.  
  
He stared at it with a sneer on his face. Ten cars, barely two stories tall, rickety and rusty. She elbowed him. “Stop it.”  
  
“It’s just so…we’ll be lucky if we survive.”  
  
“Are you scared?”  
  
He laughed. “We could fall from the very top. I’d managed to catch something.” He regarded her. “I could probably even catch you.”  
  
She scoffed. “Who said I’d need you to catch me?”  
  
“You think you wouldn’t?”  
  
“Hey big man, they’ve spent a year training you. I’ve been there five.”  
  
“Oh, you think so?”  
  
“Oh, I know so. I could totally take you.”  
  
“We’re testing that.”  
  
“Just give me a place and time.”  
  
“Tomorrow. Noon in the gym.”  
  
“You are so lucky I'm shipping out tomorrow. But as soon as I get back you are so going to regret that,” she said as they stepped to the front of the line.  
  
As the young man opened the guard for him he pressed a $20 bill into his hand. “Stop it with us at the top for a minute, will you?”  
  
“You got it,” he said.  
  
She glanced at him as they moved very slowly with the creaking of protesting metal. “What was that?”  
  
“Hey, I’ve been him. Now that I have it it’s nice to spread it around a little. Wouldn’t be right to expect him to take charity.”  
  
She smiled at him. “That’s sweet.”  
  
He paused as they creaked to a stop. “That’s me.” He put an arm around her, pulling her close as she rolled her eyes. “Can’t even go out in the rain, I’d melt I’m so sweet.”  
  
She snorted. “So you’re not thinking you’ll get anything in return?” He tried to look innocent, he really did. “Didn’t think this was a nice little setup you had here?”  
  
“Maybe just a little.”  
  
He leaned toward her, ready to look like an idiot. But she tilted her head to meet him. She opened her mouth when he pressed closer, an open invitation he took. He thrilled when she met his tongue with her own, chased him back into his mouth, pressed forward, almost into his lap, her hand closing tight around his arm. Hungry. Her breath came in gasps as she kissed him like he was her first drink of water in years.  
  
Suddenly the wheel moved with a jolt, knocking their teeth together. She gasped and turned away, wiping blood off her lip.  
  
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Sorry.” He glared down. “I gave that bastard the money too soon.  
  
She laughed. “I think I’ll live. Little blood never hurt anyone.” She grinned. “Just the opposite sometimes.” Her eyes sparkled as they moved back toward the ground.  
  
“Okay, maybe I didn’t pay him enough,” Clint muttered as she grabbed his hand and drug him away from the lights and the road.  
  
He took the lead quickly, heading back toward the trailers those running the show stayed in. It was perfect, dark and deserted.  
  
Clint pressing her up against one of the trailers, kissing her neck. “Clint,” she whispered.  
  
“What?” he whispered against her.  
  
She pulled back to look in his eyes. “How far are you willing to go with this?”  
  
He snickered. “Hardly the first time I’ve done this.”  
  
She sighed as he leaned down to kiss her. She grabbed him and pulled him close to kiss him, guiding his hand to her breast. He groaned appreciatively, letting his hand dip into her shirt. “Fuck, I feel like I’m fifteen again,” she sighed, running her hands up his arms and over his shoulders.  
  
“I don’t know about you, but I had a pretty damn good time back then.” He pulled away from her lips to press her breast up and out of her shirt to assault it with his mouth.  
  
“There’s something to be said for experience,” she sighed.  
  
“There certainly is,” he whispered. “Let me show you.” He raised an eyebrow at her as his hands strayed under her skirt. Her eyes shone as she nodded eagerly, shimmied to help. Her underwear tracked down her legs. “I can’t believe I’m doing this in public.” She sighed as his fingers moved over her. His eyes bore into hers as he leaned down to suckle on her breast a little, gasping when he felt how wet she was.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck I have to-“ He fell to his knees before her.  
  
“Clint,” she keened as he lifted her leg, kissing the inside of her knee before pressing it over his shoulder.  
  
He leaned up and under her skirt, his head disappearing under the folds of fabric. She hoped enough to avoid an indecent exposure charge. Coulson would kill her for this. Doing something like this in public. She was pretty sure there would be a lecture about corrupting new agents. She should know better.  
  
Then all thoughts of Coulson completely fled her mind, thank God, as she felt his tongue go to work. She leaned back against the trailer, hand grasping wildly for something to ground her. “Clint,” she half-squealed.  
  
“Hm?” he answered.  
  
“Oh God, do that again,” she sighed.  
  
He chuckled before he started humming, his right arm going up to hold her hips in place while his left hand disappeared under her skirt as well.  
  
She knew what she must look like. He had her absolutely writhing and moaning, fighting his hand to squirm against him. When she moaned he stopped, removing his head to glare up at him. “Shh, they’ll hear you.”  
  
“Giving me orders now, Agent Barton?”  
  
“Just shut up and come,” he ordered with a cocky grin, disappearing back under her skirt.  
  
“Jack a-a-sss,” she hissed out. Her fingers threaded into his hair, and he reached up to move it to his shoulders.  
  
She laughed breathily. “Control freak,” she accused.  
  
“You’re one to talk,” he answered before her eyes rolled back up in her head. “Let me do this. I don’t need your help. I’m pretty damn good at it. Or so I’m told.”  
  
She opened her mouth to respond but bit her lip when he quietly focused on his work. Instead she began banging her head against trailer. “Fuck, Clint.” He hummed again and she cried out, her back bowing. Her breath started coming in shorter gasps and he was pretty sure he would find finger-shaped bruises on his shoulders the next time he took his shirt off.  
  
Finally, unable to resist the chance to watch her face, Clint pulled back, looking up at her, the muscles on his arms shifting as his hand continued to work. “Laura, come for me.”  
  
She nodded, short jerky movements and stopped breathing for a moment, every muscle in her body going taunt while her teeth clashed in a grimace and her eyes rolled back in her head.  
  
“Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s it, Laura. Let me feel you.” His hand continued to move while she shuttered under his touch. Finally she slapped it away. He laughed good naturedly and stood, careful to support her boneless weight.  
  
She grinned up at him. “How did you get so good at that?”  
  
“Well, for my sixteenth birthday the two lesbians that would moonlight with johns for extra cash on the side showed me a few tricks. I’m a quick study. Beyond that, just practice. And an honest desire to watch you come apart.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear, “You’re breathtaking when you come. I love it.”  
  
She pulled him close to kiss him, groaning into his mouth as she wrapped her arms around him. She spent a moment kissing him, finding her way back onto her feet before she turned, pressing him against the trailer. She laughed at the confused look on his face and her hand tracked lower. “My turn.”  
  
“Laura, you don’t have to.”  
  
“I know.” She fell to her knees before him, grinning up at him. “I want to. Besides, turnabout is fair play.”  
  
He shook his head, catching her by the arms and pulling her back up. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to whisper in her ear, “I want you.” He let his hands wander low, sighing at the tight muscles under his hand and guiding her hips to his, which made him sigh again. “Please.”  
  
“So polite,” she grinned up at him, teeth bright in the moonlight.  
  
“Yes ma’am.”  
  
She leaned in close. “Clint?”  
  
“You’re a tease aren’t you?”  
  
“Not pretend you don’t love it,” she ordered, running her fingers over the back of his neck. “I want you to fuck me.”  
  
“Shit,” he whispered, dropping his head into the crook of her shoulder as she continued to run her fingers up and down the back of his neck. He leaned back to look her in the eye. “Say it again?”  
  
Her laugh was absolutely musical as she drew him close. “Fuck me,” she whispered into his ear.  
  
He actually lifted her off of her feet to spin her around against the trailer, trapping her hard against the rough siding. She laughed again. Bells. He could swear there were bells in that sound. And then those long clever fingers opened his pants and all he could do for a few moments was to close his eyes and pant.  
  
“Come on Clint, don’t let me down. You haven’t yet.”  
  
“And I’m not going to,” he promised, pushing her skirt up and pulling her leg up and around his hip.  
  
She purred as he ground against her. “Yesss,” she hissed.  
  
“This is what you want?” he whispered, pressing himself into her.  
  
“So much,” she sighed, eyes half lidded suddenly.  
  
He pressed into her and she hissed, going up on her tiptoes to press herself back against the wall. “Like that?”  
  
“Fuck yes,” she said. “That feels so fucking good.”  
  
He pulled back and pressed forward again. “How about that?”  
  
She pulled him down for a demanding kiss. “Stop fucking around and do it,” she demanded.  
  
He responded, pulling back and pushing in close, not giving her time to adjust before pulling away and pressing her against the unforgiving wall. She started to make small noises with each thrust and buried her head in his neck. He obligingly lifted his arms, giving her a little more support, something to cling to. Her fingernails sunk obligingly into his muscles and she whimpered. “Fuck, you’re so-“ She gasped. “So HARD.”  
  
He laughed at that. “And you’re so soft,” he responded, pressing home.  
  
“Not everywhere,” she panted, and he felt her teeth sink into the tendon connecting his neck to his shoulder.  
  
“Fuck!” he gasped. “Laura, if you keep doing that…Fuck!” She laughed, feeling him jump buried deep inside of her.  
  
“Come for me, Clint,” she ordered, running her teeth over the skin.  
  
“Laura,” he gasped.  
  
“Do it Clint. Come for me.”  
  
He tensed, buried deep inside of her, and she suddenly buried her teeth in his skin. He ground his teeth, only allowing a grunt past the barrier, and then sagged, leaning heavily on the trailer, willing himself to keep them both upright.  
  
She chuckled, pulling her nails and teeth out of his flesh. He nearly dropped her when she leaned back against the trailer and licked her lips. He shook his head as he pulled out. “You. You are…”  
  
“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.  
  
“One hell of a woman,” he whispered, taking a deep breath before moving to straighten himself. “Are you ready to go back to the base now?”   
  
“I think someone promised me cotton candy,” she answered, grinning at him over her shoulder.


	3. Strip Club

Coulson found Clint at the edge of the range where an archery target had been set up. In a sea of guns it wasn’t hard to spot Barton. He was playing (and playing was definitely the word) with some monstrosity covered in gadgets. He would fire, adjust, fire again, and turn to give notes to the science officer standing behind him, wearing special headphones complete with an antenna that blocked the noise of the rest of the firing range but were equipped with a radio that let them communicate.  
  
Coulson stayed respectfully back, waiting as the science offer, who generally wasn’t all that calm to begin with, looked increasingly harried and scribbled quickly through his pad.  
  
When it appeared that the conversation was degrading quickly into an argument he stepped forward, motioning Clint out to the hallway. Instead of following he pushed the contraption down around his neck and yelled, “What?”  
  
“Come into the hall with me,” he answered.  
  
The science officer scurried away like a mouse that had noticed the cat was distracted. With a withering look Clint followed Coulson out. The senior agent handed his own ear protection to the agent by the door. “You’re going to go deaf if you don’t wear the ear protection,” Coulson scolded.  
  
“I really hope you came here with something more important than testing how strongly I resist being disconnected from safety equipment.”  
  
“I did.” He fiddled with the folder in his hands. “You remember Laura Beddington?” His eyes slid to the right for a moment, searching his memory. “Who recruited you.”  
  
“Oh, that Laura, sure,” Clint said. “Is she in trouble?”  
  
“Not at all. But her regular partner is out on a job and isn’t getting back in time to check in with her. We need someone she knows to go out and make contact with her.”  
  
“Sounds like something I could manage.”  
  
“Good.” He withdrew a picture of a stunning blond and handed it to him. “This is the other agent she’s currently embedded with. Barbara Morse.”  
  
“All right. Go talk to two gorgeous women. Think I can handle that. What sort of update are you looking for?”  
  
“Whatever they have. Just some general information on how it’s going. If they have anything to pass off to you they’ll arrange to meet somewhere else later.”  
  
“That’s sort of unusually vague. Is there a reason we can’t just arrange a place now? Or a drop while I’m there?”  
  
“It’s not easy for them to secret the information away, and it will be very easy to set up a meeting.” He shuffled Morse’s picture back into the folder. “I don’t think it will be any hardship for you no go there either.”  
  
“Where is it?”  
  
“A gentleman’s club.”  
  
He blinked. “A strip club?”  
  
“That too.”  
  
“You want me to go see these girls naked?”  
  
“In swimsuits. They don’t go topless. This is a ‘classy’ establishment, I’m told.”  
  
“I can see why that would make it difficult to transport the information.”  
  
“If they have anything for you, you may be invited back to a stripper’s apartment for the first time, Agent Barton. Congratulations.”  
  
“Who says I’ve never been invited home with one before?”  
  
“How many strip clubs have you been in?” He stopped, holding up his hand. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He handed him a set of keys and the folder. “Address is inside, the GPS will direct you.” He shook his head. “At least you’ll fit in.”  
  
It took him three hours to get to the destination. And as he walked in he decided Coulson was right. It was definitely more upscale. It was clean, and classy as a place with a catwalk covered with poles could be. Red curtains, marble bar, well dressed bartender, and the girls did indeed have (very skimpy) bikini tops on.  
  
There was a surprising lack of patrons, although the girls did seem to be giving it their all never the less for the two other patrons.  
  
He went to the bar and ordered a vastly overpriced drink, then took a seat and waited for Laura to make an appearance.  
  
The girls were good looking. Not a stretch mark or scar in sight. The suits were more covering than he had expected, although the moves were the same and he certainly didn’t mind spending the half hour it took for a familiar voice over his shoulder to say, “Well hello there soldier.”  
  
Suddenly Laura was stretched across his lap, taking the drink out of his hand and helping herself. He smiled as he leaned back. “Who says I’m a soldier?”  
  
She ran her hand through his short-cropped hair. “You have the look, and I have good instincts.”  
  
“You do,” he agreed. “Anything else your instincts tell you?”  
  
She nodded, turning and snapping over his shoulder. “I think you want to take me and my friend back to a private room.”  
  
He glanced back as the blond she was snapping at wandered over. Agent Morse knelt behind him, wrapping her arms around him and glancing expectantly at Laura. She grinned, running a hand down Laura’s cheek. “She’ll call you Sir if you like.”  
  
“You won’t?” he asked.  
  
She shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”  
  
“How much?”  
  
“$100 for the room, $100 for me, $100 for her, gets you half hour.”  
  
He dug out his wallet and offered her three of SHIELD’s crisp $100 bills.  
  
She snapped them up and stood, offering him a hand. Agent Morse unwound herself and took the other hand as he stood and let her lead him back to the room.  
  
It was shockingly nice too, all plush carpet and red velvet curtains, a wide couch facing a pole. While Morse pulled the curtains over the door Laura sat him down on the couch, arranging herself across his lap while Morse sat on the platform and leaned against the pole. He belatedly realized he’d left his drink out front, and shook his head. These two were good.  
  
“What’s up with Roger?” Laura asked, not even bothering to drop her voice.  
  
His eyebrows rose, more than a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be leaning close to whisper in his ear. “You’re that sure it isn’t bugged?” She nodded and he glanced around. “Cameras?”  
  
“That’s all for the up front and downstairs customers,” Laura said. “They’re not so worried about us.”  
  
“A bouncer may look in,” Agent Morse said. “But we bore them. They have more important things to do. Generally we have pretty clean customers, upper class.”  
  
“People with money,” Laura said. “If they are up to something that’s what they’re buying the kids downstairs for. So, Roger.”  
  
“They didn’t really tell me. They said the job ran long. I don’t think anything went wrong.”  
  
Her breath left her chest in a whoosh and she leaned forward to rub her forehead. “Thank God.”  
  
“Next time find out exactly what happened,” Morse said. “And lead with that.”  
  
“Sure.” He rubbed her back. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were that wound up.” He watched her throw her head back and put herself back together. “He must be one hell of a partner.”  
  
“She’s one hell of a partner,” Morse said.  
  
“High praise,” he commented.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “Bobbi, this is Agent Clint Barton. Clint, Bobbi Morse.”  
  
“Clint is it?” she asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
“I recruited him,” Laura said.  
  
“Well done,” she grinned. “Should I ask if he’s as good as he looks?”  
  
“At what?” Laura asked with a grin that was pure sin.  
  
“I KNEW it!” she laughed.  
  
Clint glared at Laura. “You are absolutely not going to get me to blush.”  
  
Both girls laughed at that. “It’s okay. I’ll get all the really good details later,” Bobbi said.  
  
“How chivalrous of you,” Laura said.  
  
“That’s me.”  
  
“Anyway!” Clint said loudly. “Coulson wants to know if you have any more info.”  
  
“We have a few documents,” Laura said. “More financial stuff.”  
  
Bobbi sighed. “I want to shut these shitheads down. Now.”  
  
Laura shook her head. “They’d go underground in a second. You have to be patient.”  
  
“Don’t pretend it doesn’t make your skin crawl,” Bobbi said.  
  
She shrugged. “Necessary evil is something you get used to.”  
  
“I’m sure that makes the eight-year-old they’re selling right now feel much better.”  
  
Clint snorted. “Wait a minute. They’re selling kids?”  
  
Laura looked at him levelly. “Human trafficking. Why did you think we were hitting it so hard?”  
  
“I….didn’t I guess.”  
  
Bobbi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Always dig. You need to see what SHIELD is really up to.”  
  
Laura shook her head. “Coulson is his handler.” She patted his shoulder. “Him you can trust. And he misses nothing.”  
  
“Hero worship much?” Bobbi snickered.  
  
“Some people deserve it. I don’t hand it out lightly.” She glanced at Clint who she could feel tensing from her seat across his lap. “We’re getting names and addresses, Clint. We’ll pick the kids up and we’ll handle the adults.”  
  
“But how much damage will be done by then?”  
  
“How much damage will they do if they get away? There are three more container ships of kids en route.”  
  
He winced. “Hate those decisions,” he said.  
  
“Never become a handler,” she recommended. Bobbi nodded her agreement. “So we’ll give you the info tonight. You wait for us in two hours, outside. We’ll take you back to our place after out shift.”  
  
“You do that often?”  
  
“Might be a habit we’ve established,” Bobbi offered.  
  
“Mostly with Roger,” Laura said. “But you know, agents.”  
  
“So we’ll get you the thumb drive with what we’ve got.”  
  
“Which has not been easy to get when you’re running around this place in string bikinis all day,” Bobbi added.  
  
“Maybe we can end this sooner rather than later.” She grabbed Clint’s hand, turning his wrist to look at his watch. “All right. We’ll escort you out.”  
  
He turned the watch to look at it. “I should have five minutes left. I haven’t even seen your moves.”  
  
Laura and Bobbi shared a smile. “He’s talking to you,” Laura said. “He’s seen all my moves.”  
  
“Well we’re just so good you’ve lost all track of time,” Bobbi said.  
  
“You got your money’s worth,” Laura said, standing and taking his hand. “Come on, give me those beady eyes. Pretend you’ve been through a three-hour rundown with Fritzston.”  
  
He did his best to blink slowly and let Laura lead him out to the foyer, Bobbi following all swaying hips on her ridiculously long legs extended by the crazy heals. Laura turned, running her hands up his cheeks to capture his attention while Bobbi came up to press herself against him from behind. “See you later,” Laura purred while Bobbi twittered in his ear.  
  
He made a coffee run and a McDonalds run and he’s waiting outside the door when they came out, tripping blithely together and giggling as they leaned on one another.  
  
He put a grin on his face as he stepped up behind them to put a hand around both theirs to steady them.  
  
“Good morning girls,” he said.  
  
“You came!” Bobbi squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
“How could I not?” he asked as Laura put her hand on his cheek and turned his head to give her access to his lips.  
  
Bobbi grinned, leading them toward a car. “Come on, don’t completely exhaust him before we even get him home,” she pouted beautifully.  
  
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for these soldiers.”  
  
“Come on girls, my car is this way,” he said.  
  
They repeated the performance into the girl’s apartment building, but they detached the moment the door was closed behind them.  
  
“Have a seat,” Laura said. “I’ll get you a beer.”  
  
“That would be great,” he said, sitting on a patched sofa.  
  
Bobbi came back and handed him a thumb drive. “Coulson will know what to do with it.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said, putting it in his pocket as Laura brought him his beer.  
  
“So how have things been at home?” Laura asked, sitting and crossing her legs, offering Bobbi a beer.  
  
She took it and sipped. “I’m not much for gossip,” he said.  
  
Bobbi snorted. “You call yourself a spy?”  
  
“No, I call myself a marksman,” he said.  
  
Bobbi rolled her eyes while Laura grinned. “You two are cute. You should date,” she chuckled. Bobbi snorted. “I’m not kidding,” Laura objected. “He’d be good for you.”  
  
“Based on what?” Bobbi asked.  
  
“I did his eval, remember? He’s sweet, he’s loyal.” She winked at him.  
  
“I don’t think you’re as good as you think you are,” he said. “I’m not that much of either.”  
  
She grinned at Bobbi. “Right.”  
  
“Shouldn’t you be asking why she doesn’t want me for herself then?” Clint asked.  
  
Laura shook her head. “After this job I’m going to the middle east. I’m going to be embedded with the US military while I work on my Doctoral Thesis,” she said. “At least a year, probably two, maybe three.” She shrugged. “Bobbi’s sweet though. You two would get along.”  
  
“If you keep playing matchmaker, I’m leaving,” Clint warned.  
  
“Hey, I think you could do worse cowboy,” Bobbi said. She glanced him up and down. “So you got to check out the goods, maybe it’s my turn. Take off your shirt.”  
  
“After only one beer?” Clint looked stricken. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”  
  
They all laughed but Laura raised her bottle. “It’s a nice view,” she said. “Well worth the price of a 6-pack.”


	4. Hospital

Bobbi hurried into the room, shucking her shirt before the door was even shut. She ran into the bedroom, rummaging around in her dresser. She didn’t even realize someone was in the room until strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Soft lips landed on her throat and a gentle voice whispered, “You smell good.”  
  
“You’re a liar, Clint Barton,” she said, turning in his arms. “I smell sweaty and disgusting.”  
  
“Hm, I dreamt about that scent.”  
  
She laughed. “Such a charming fellow.” She gave him a real kiss before pulling back. “I thought you were going to be gone another three days.”  
  
“Couldn’t stay away.”  
  
She snorted. “Coulson wrapped it up early?”  
  
“Maybe your husband was just that good.”  
  
“Yeah. I’m betting on Coulson.”  
  
“Yeah, well, if you weren’t right…” He kissed her again. “Want to sleep with the guy who followed Coulson’s orders and kicked some ass?”  
  
“I’m kind of busy right now. I’m going to go visit Laura. You should come.”  
  
“Laura who is cock-blocking me right now?”  
  
Bobbi rolled her eyes and turned back to the drawer, batting his hands away. “Laura Beddington.” She shook her head when he gave her a helpless shrug. “The one I was on the job with at the strip club? That said we should go out? That couldn’t come to the wedding because she was embedded in the Middle East and Fury said he’d ground me for a month if I took a jet to get her?”  
  
“Why is she back? She’s still supposed to be overseas.”  
  
“You didn’t hear?”  
  
Clint rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed. “I don’t listen to gossip. You know that.”  
  
“It isn’t gossip, it’s fact.” She pulled on a shirt. “Her Humvee got blown to kingdom come. She’s got a nasty wound on her leg. They might have to amputate.”  
  
He winced. “She’s in medical?”  
  
“She’s in Walter Reed.”  
  
He blinked. “Is she being punished?” Bobbi shook her head. “SHIELD facilities are better.”  
  
“Two of the other guys from the unit are there. She doesn’t want to leave them.”  
  
“That’s stupid.”  
  
Bobbi glared at him. “Being loyal is not stupid.”  
  
“Sometimes it is.”  
  
She turned to look at him with her hands on his hips with a glare that made him wince. “Are you coming with me?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?”  
  
“Yes, of course you do. But only one of the choices will involve your penis ever touching any part of me in the rest of eternity.”  
  
He blinked twice. “I’ll get dressed.”  
  
“Good. And you will be supportive.”  
  
“All right.”  
  
“Best behavior, Clint. I mean it.”  
  
“Yes ma’am.”  
  
“We should get her flowers.” She grabbed the wrinkled jeans Clint had pulled out from his hand and replaced it with black dress pants. “What does she like?”  
  
He sighed heavily, then shrugged. “How the fuck would I know?”  
  
“You slept with her.”  
  
“I didn’t buy her flowers afterward.”  
  
“You’re such a gentleman, Barton. Really.”  
  
“Hey, you knew what you were getting. I never pretended to be a gentleman.”  
  
“Tianjin?”  
  
“I never pretended to be a gentleman TO YOU. Or her.”  
  
“Well she’s hurt and maybe about to loose her leg. For sure her career as a stripper is over.”  
  
“Pity,” he said sarcastically, holding up two shirts.  
  
She pointed at one. “It is. She was good at it. You know how bad it is for someone in our line of work to have a scar that obvious. And if she looses the leg-“  
  
“I’m sure she’ll manage,” Clint said. “A leg isn’t such a big deal. It’s easy to hide and with enough PT she’ll be able to do just about everything she could before.”  
  
“You want to give her yours?”  
  
“No thanks.” He slipped into a pair of decent shoes while Bobbi adjusted her pencil skirt in the mirror. “That makes your ass look great.”  
  
She grinned over her shoulder. “Down boy.”  
  
Traffic was horrible. It took almost two hours to make it to the hospital. Clint was growling while Bobbi flipped through files, making notes and suggesting places Clint could stop to pick up flowers. She scared the shit out of him when she suddenly bolted upright and screamed, pointing emphatically out the window at a flower shop. For a moment he thought she’d seen #1 on SHIELD’s most wanted list, and probably someone that wanted her dead.  
  
She handpicked single lilies and Black Eyed Susans into a bouquet that cost Clint a fortune considering they were all weeds (“She’ll like it,” Bobbi assured him. “She considers herself a little ordinary and wild.”).  
  
He held the door open for her as they entered and inquired at the desk. He shivered uncomfortably as they passed formerly fit men with haunted eyes.  
  
He heard her before they reached her room. She laughed loudly and with abandon, that hadn’t changed. He was glad.  
  
Bobbi went ahead of him, peaking around the door and knocking. “Can we come in?”  
  
“Bobbi!” she cried out. “Come give us a hug.”  
  
Clint stepped into the room to see Bobbi being hugged as enthusiastically as a woman with an IV in her arm and her leg secured could manage.  
  
There were three more men in the room, one in a wheelchair. They all had military cuts and sweats on, and they all looked happy to see Laura’s grin. The fact that they were oogling his wife’s ass he was less impressed with.  
  
“And you brought Clint!” she enthused. “I can’t believe he actually took my advice and went out with you.”  
  
“Well, I did press the issue,” Bobbi said, perching on the edge of the bed. “We brought flowers.”  
  
“Oh, they’re so pretty!” Laura said, touching the petals when Clint dutifully brought the vase to her. “How did you know I love lilies?”  
  
“Just a feeling.”  
  
“And my great aunt loved Black Eyed Susans. She had a whole patch of them on the farm.” She rubbed Bobbi’s arm affectionately. “You’re the best.”  
  
“I do what I can,” Bobbi said. “We don’t have long.”  
  
“Of course. SHIELD is keeping you hopping. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it back for the wedding.”  
  
“Eh,” Bobbi waved her away dismissively. “It was a small ceremony, short. We would have liked to have you, since you put us together, but we understand.” She motioned to the leg. “Tell me how this happened.”  
  
“Humvee I was riding in exploded.”  
  
“She’s being humble,” one of the men put in.  
  
“She never tells the important stuff.”  
  
“There is no important stuff!” Laura objected. “The Humvee exploded.”  
  
“And she crawled out, wounded,” one of the soldiers said.  
  
“Taking fire,” another put in.  
  
“And when we’d gotten an opening she took off, bleeding like crazy.”  
  
“Wrapped it up and tied her shoelace around it.”  
  
“And then spent two days walking through the desert on it.”  
  
“Absolutely refusing to let us carry her.”  
  
“Or help in any way.”  
  
“We could barely get her to drink water.”  
  
“Or sit down and rest.”  
  
“That was because I was afraid I wouldn’t get back up,” she objected.  
  
They laughed at that, grizzled marines looking at her with respect. “This is a soldier,” one of them said.  
  
“Wish they all came like her,” another put in.  
  
She was blushing. He had seen her wearing next to nothing rubbing up against the closest fat wallet. He’d seen her stretched out in a very compromising position against a trailer in the open and there hadn’t been a hint of red in her cheeks.  
  
“Okay, you guys are embarrassing,” she finally burst out. “Get back to your own rooms. I’m sick of you.”  
  
They grinned and chuckled, but each one of them saluted and said, “Yes ma’am,” before exiting the room.  
  
“That’s better,” she said, putting her arm around Bobbi and drawing her onto the bed. “They’re like having a bunch of little brothers I never wanted. How’s married life?”  
  
“A lot like life before,” she said with a fond smile for Clint. “We still never get to see each other.”  
  
“Just means you won’t have to worry about the seven year itch,” Laura chuckled.  
  
“Is that your opinion as a professional therapist?”  
  
“You bet,” she agreed.  
  
“I want to hear more about this incident.”  
  
“I think they covered it.”  
  
“Two days in the desert getting shot at?”  
  
“I’d rather forget that, thank you. And we didn’t get shot at much. Which unfortunately meant taking the long way around.”  
  
“While your leg is rotting off?”  
  
“Well I did stop the bleeding. The rotting I was less worried about.” She smiled up at her. “Look, I’m here. I’m fine. I’m in a hospital. I’m not in danger. If it gets that bad they’ll amputate.”  
  
“Assuming you stop holding them at bay with a scalpel.”  
  
“Nah, they took those away. It was scissors once.” She reached out to rub Bobbi’s arm. “It’s going to be all right. They won’t have to amputate. I’m afraid the stripping career is over.”  
  
“Like they would even notice your lower leg,” Bobbi said. She shrugged and Bobbi turned to Clint. “When she was running around in a bikini would you have even noticed a scar on her lower leg?”  
  
“Um,” Clint paused. “Well I’m a spy, so I hope so. And I liked her legs.” Bobbi’s eyes narrowed. “And I think I better stop there.”  
  
“Can I see it?” Bobbi asked.  
  
“Oh, you don’t want to do that. It’s gross. It’s all green and-“  
  
“Surgery?”  
  
“They may have to take the muscle. Means some serious PT. They keep telling me it would be easier to amputate but-“  
  
“You’re a stubborn SOB,” Bobbi said.  
  
“You’re the only one allowed to say that.”  
  
“Come on, let me see,” she whined.  
  
Laura sighed. “All right, but you’ve been warned.” She pulled up the blanket. “It’s on the back of the right.” She turned away as Bobbi peeled down the bandage and hissed at the green tint to the rough gash that was stitched closed. When she replaced the bandage she helped Laura resettle the blankets. “Satisfied?”  
  
“Pretty nasty. Maybe you should let them-“  
  
“Shut up now.” There was no give in her voice. “You know the other boys in the unit haven’t suggested it once. They’re helping me hold the surgeons off. They get it.”  
  
“I get it. I’m just saying-“ She stopped and sighed. “They respect you.”  
  
“It’s a nice thing.”  
  
“Not easy. Hardened group of marines, woman embedded with them.”  
  
“You know how it goes.”  
  
Bobbi smiled. “I do.”  
  
“So something more cheerful. Tell me about this FABULOUS wedding I missed out on.”  
  
“There wasn’t that much to it,” Bobbi said. “We decided to go for it, went to the court house.”  
  
“Please tell me he didn’t wear a t-shirt and sweatpants,” she shot at Clint.  
  
“SHIELD gear,” he said defensively.  
  
“And Bobbi? Did you actually wear a skirt?”  
  
She sniffed. “If SHIELD gear was good enough for him-“  
  
Laura groaned. “You two are both hopeless. You deserve each other.”  
  
“If we ever need a marriage counselor, remind me to see if you’re available first,” Bobbi said with a roll of her eyes.  
  
He would find that comment would be especially ironic two years later.


	5. Lose Ends

He stood in front of the two-way glass, watching his wife glare at the agent sitting across from her in handcuffs that kept her attached to the table.  
  
They refused to let him see her, everyone from Coulson to Fury to Maria Hill had given him strict orders to keep his distance.  
  
He looked up at the click of heels down the hall. At first his eyes slid off the brunette in the pencil skirt and suit jacket, hair back in a no-nonsense bun. When she drew closer he looked more closely and her name escaped his lips like a prayer. “Laura.”  
  
“Clint.” She nodded, stepping up to look through the window. “Christ, she doesn’t even look like herself does she?”  
  
Clint turned to look at his wife, seeing it for the first time. Everything was wrong, from the stoop of her shoulders to the styling of her hair. “No, she doesn’t.” He looked back at Laura. “Think you can get her back?”  
  
She shrugged. “One way to find out. You stay here.”  
  
She went around to go in the door. The agent left as she sat in front of the woman who looked at her without recognition. “Bobbi, Bobbi, Bobbi,” she murmured. “Of all the places I never thought you’d get me into this is way up there on the list.”  
  
“My name isn’t Bobbi. It’s Barbara.”  
  
“Ah, so you prefer Barbie now?”  
  
She winced. “No.”  
  
“I thought not. Babs maybe?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“So what does that man pretending to be your husband call you in bed?”  
  
“He isn’t pretending anything.”  
  
“He is. I know your husband.” She opened the file in front of her. “Clint Barton. Hell of a guy. Watching through that window right now.” She nodded toward the glass. “Been hunting for you. Exhaustively. For months.” She leaned forward. “Want to know what he called me in bed?”  
  
“Even if I didn’t know you were lying that’s a dead giveaway. I’d never share.”  
  
“Oh, no. Not at the same time. I knew him first. I suggested you two go out.”  
  
“I have a husband and when I get out of here I’m going straight back to him.”  
  
“Clint’s better. Trust me. Archer. Let me tell you, the callouses on his fingers, and the things that man can do with his tongue, should be illegal.”  
  
“Why don’t you just go have a good time with him then?”  
  
“Tempting.” She leaned forward and said in a conspirative tone, “You know how long it’s been since I had a good fuck?” She straightened, tapping the table. “Thing is, unlike this ‘husband’ you’re referring to, I’m not into polygamy.” She pulled out her phone. “And I couldn’t do that to my best friend. After everything we’ve been through.”  
  
“I suppose you’re going to give me some highlights now,” she scoffed.  
  
“We like to sing. Go out for a good karaoke night.” She pulled up video and handed it off. “Ever since Bangladesh you and I have been peas in a pod. Our geese were nearly cooked there, but we got each other out.” She started pulling up pictures. “The stripper stint was good fun.”  
  
“These are Photoshoped.”  
  
“And the video?”  
  
“It can be done.”  
  
“And your voice?”  
  
“I don’t sing.”  
  
She snickered. “He took away your voice. That’s just mean. You love to sing.”  
  
She slammed her hands down on the table. “NO I DON’T!”  
  
“Okay.” She consulted her phone for a moment, then shifted the paper file again, left it open with Clint’s picture, sliding it out of the reach of her handcuffed fingers. “Suit yourself.”  
  
“Where are you going?” she asked as Laura stood.  
  
“I have a meeting I need to be in. I’ll be back.” She patted the top of her hand. “Try not to pine for me, Bobbi.”  
  
“It’s Barbara!” she shouted after her.  
  
She joined Clint outside the window, watching her stare at the file. “Why did you stop? You were just starting to get through.”  
  
“Small steps. Then we let the information sink in. Give her time to chew on it.”  
  
“Maybe if I went in there.”  
  
“No,” Laura said emphatically. “You want to hit her over the head with this all at once.”  
  
“I want her to see the truth!”  
  
“If you overwhelm her she’s going to retreat. She’ll shut down and refuse to think it through and it will take twice as long to make it back in. But if you give her pieces, and then give her a break to take it in and roll it around in her head, you’ll make more progress.”  
  
“But I’m her husband!”  
  
“I know.” She put a hand on his arm. “I know this must be hard. You just have to trust me.”  
  
“Full disclosure, I’m not very good at that.”  
  
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I noticed.” She sighed. “Maybe trust that I’m her friend and I won’t do anything to hurt her.” She rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I’ll get our Bobbi back.” She removed her hand then, checking her phone. “I really do have a meeting to get to. I’ll see you later. Hang in there Clint.”  
  
He wouldn’t get to see the rest of the process. He was called out on a job—it took two hours of arguing with Coulson to get him on the plane, and he was still absolutely certain it was all Laura’s doing—and when he came back, sure enough, his Bobbi ran to hug him, apologies falling from her lips while Laura grinned happily, and more than a little smugly, behind him.  
  
And two weeks later after Bobbi—when HIS Bobbi—stood motionless while the man responsible for the mess plummeted to his death, that’s the moment she chose to turn up.  
  
“Oh fuck,” he muttered when Laura popped out of the hatch and onto the roof he was sequestering himself in the solitude of. “I supposed you used some psychological mumbo jumbo to know I was up here.”  
  
She snorted. “Please, everyone knows you come up here to pout.”  
  
“I don’t pout.”  
  
“Everyone pouts. Even Director Fury pouts sometimes.”  
  
“Coulson doesn’t.”  
  
“He does, it just doesn’t look like pouting in the regular sense.” She came to sit next to him. Today she wore an olive ARMY shirt and standard issue SHIELD pants and sneakers. She dangled her legs off the edge, showing none the hesitance that usually kept people away from his perches.  
  
“Do you know what happened?”  
  
She nodded. “I’ve been counseling Bobbi through this. She said you ‘didn’t approve’.”  
  
He snorted. “I told her I wanted a divorce.”  
  
Laura whistled through her teeth. “I’d kinda hoped you hadn’t jumped right to your bottom line.”  
  
“She killed a man, Laura.”  
  
“No, she didn’t.” He glared at her. “She didn’t Clint.”  
  
“She could have caught him.”  
  
“She could. But she didn’t push him.” She sighed as she looked at the view before them. “She stood there and she watched the man who had brainwashed her into believing she loved him fall over a cliff and she did nothing. She watched the man who had for all practical purposes raped her heaven only knows how many times fall to his death.”  
  
“She good as killed him. I wouldn’t have done that. I can’t live with that.”  
  
“Clint, you’ve never been in that situation. You don’t know what you would have done.”  
  
“I do. I wouldn’t have done that.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” she repeated. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do. Just, think about it. Don’t rush into anything. Give it a little time. Don’t do something you’d regret. Maybe if you can find it in your heart talk to her.”  
  
“You know she was kidding when she said you should be our marriage counselor.”  
  
“I know. Consider it advice from a friend.”  
  
He nodded. “For what it’s worth, thank you.”  
  
She nodded, patting his shoulder again before getting up and walking away from him.  
  
It would be three years before he would lay eyes on her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there. Next chapter is one of my favorites. Let's get these two hooked up.


	6. Into the Woods

Clint’s first thought when he heard the knocking on the door was that his alarm clock was a fucking liar. He was absolutely certain he just closed his eyes. There was no way he had been asleep for the 3 hours the glowing red numbers before his eyes suggested.  
  
"Who the fuck is it?"  
  
"I'm sorry Agent Barton. I wouldn't be waking you if it wasn't important."  
  
Mild guilt stabbed at Clint. Coulson had been in his ear for all of the 48 hour job and no doubt had been up writing every moment of the 3 hours of sleep Clint had just had. And he would be up longer working on whatever he had just been handed.  
  
He stumbled to the door. The agent standing there looked every bit as put together as Clint looked disheveled. Not a wrinkle to be seen, tie perfectly straight.  
  
"Thank you," Phil said politely as he stepped into the room.  
  
"What is it?" Clint asked blearily. "World coming to an end?"  
  
"For one agent, we think so," he said. "She was grabbed nine days ago and we just got a location."  
  
She. Damn Coulson. He knew how much of a sucker he was for the damsels in distress.  
  
"Do I know her?"  
  
He nodded. “One Laura Beddington. We need to hurry.”  
  
“Why?” Coulson gave him a cool look. “I know her, she can handle this.”  
  
Coulson closed the folder and tapped it against his palm. “It’s been nine days,” he repeated.  
  
Clint hissed through his teeth. He knew the statistics as well as the rest of the Agents. Nine days was an important timeline. It was the point at which one of two things happened in most kidnapping situations. Either the person in question had broken and given them the information they were looking for, coming to an end of their usefulness and making them disposable, or the kidnappers came to the conclusion that they weren’t going to break the old fashioned way and would move on to injuries the agent wouldn’t survive. With a good helping of revenge from frustrated torturous enemies thrown in.  
  
Clint turned to start scrounging for clothes. "Why do they want me?"  
  
"It's isolated. Wooded terrain around a secure building. They need back up to get her out of there. She isn't going to be walking out under her own steam, we know that much. So we need you in place first for cover."  
  
He nodded, pulling on a slightly more professional shirt and carrying his shoes with him. “Let’s go.”  
  
Two hours later he shifted in the bushes, looking again through the scope at the mammoth cement one-story building before him, sitting silent and still.  
  
"Honestly Coulson, what's the holdup? Let’s get this show on the road."  
  
There was a clicking on the other end of the coms, then the low hum of voices. Finally Coulson's voice sounded in his ear. "I'm sorry, Agent, looks like it's a no-go."  
  
"What?!?"  
  
"The weather isn't cooperating."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"Nope. We can't land the planes in this. Not and stay under the radar."  
  
"So what about Lau-the agent?"  
  
"We'll try again when the weather clears."  
  
"When is that going to be?"  
  
"I don't know Clint, I'm not a meteorologist." Well, if he was snapping like that Coulson wasn't any happier about the situation than he was. "Come back out, we'll pick you up and you can catch some shut-eye."  
  
He looked at the building. He’d sat through the briefing the same as the rest of the agents. It was common practice, in case he had to go in. He knew the layout of the building as well as Coulson.  
  
"You had the combination to get in the back door right?"  
  
There was a pause. "Yes. Why?" Clint began packing up and he heard Coulson say, "Barton, don't even think about it."  
  
"And you know where she is."  
  
"Clint-"  
  
"You do right?"  
  
He sighed. "We have a tracker. Implanted. It's shielded but once we get inside we'll be able to find her."  
  
He thumbed his phone on. "Download it to me."  
  
"Clint."  
  
"Look, I'm doing it either way."  
  
"Clint, this is a 10-man job. You're just cover."  
  
"You wanna help me or carry two body bags out of here?"  
  
"Damn it, Clint, you cannot do this. I mean it. You-" Bow safely stowed he tucked his guns into his belt and sprinted toward the door.  
  
"Did he just-"  
  
"He can't-"  
  
"There's no way."  
  
"Code," he said into the headset.  
  
"Clint-"  
  
"Code. Or the alarms are going to go off."  
  
"4 8 9 7 2 5 6 9 2 7 4 5 9 8 2 3 7."  
  
He hit the door, punching in the code. The door clicked open and he hurried in the door, closing it behind him and looking up and down the hallway. "Okay, that worked. I'm in."  
  
His coms crackled, falling prey to the shielding that kept them from seeing her tracker. "Clint, I don't know where the other players are in this building."  
  
"Well if they find me they're going to have a bad night." He pulled out his bow with a familiar snap and started stalking toward the orange beacon on his screen.  
  
Coulson finally began directing him, as well as he could over the static, giving him a circuitous route that actually avoided the busy sections and kept him out of anyone's hair, until he drew close to where she was kept. Five unconscious guards and two that may or may not have been dead lay behind him. While he generally avoided that sort of thing he didn't feel all that badly about it. He wouldn't have felt badly at all if he had seen her first.  
  
The body guard in the room with her must have heard something because by the time Clint got through the door he had one arm around her middle supporting her, the other holding a knife to her throat.  
  
She was in bad shape. Clint couldn't even really be sure it was her, if it wasn't for the situation.  
  
One eye was swollen shut and her lip was split. They had shaved her head, standard degradation tactic. And not very carefully either, judging by the gouges that stood out. The way her right arm hung, her shoulder was dislocated. She was in black, SHIELD issue underwear and a sports bra. Her stomach had burns that had to hurt like hell with her captor supporting her. Her fingernails were a bloody, mangled mess, assuming there even still were nails attached.  
  
Her captor was completely supporting her weight, and he thought she must have been either concussed, drugged, or so tired she didn't recognize the blade at her throat. She was holding her legs oddly. It wasn't just that she wasn't holding herself up. It was-  
  
Her feet were broken. The one that he could see was swollen and misshapen.  
  
Impressive. She must have done a decent job of getting away, nearly made it out, for them to go to the trouble of creating a situation that meant they had to carry her all over. Well Coulson had been right about her not walking out. Complicated getting her out.  
  
He didn't have time for this guy's buddies to show up.  
  
"Put down the weapon," the goon ordered.  
  
He didn't even bother to pretend. He pulled back and shot.  
  
Straight through the eye. She went down with him, although she did manage to get her uninjured arm up to push the knife away from her throat. She was sitting up by the time he got over to him.  
  
"Thanks." Her words slurred. She was tired. And dehydrated. And worse, her open eye wasn't focusing no matter how much she blinked. Concussed or drugged.  
  
"I'm Clint. Barton." He came down to her level, studying her eyes, looking for any recognition. "Agent Barton. They sent me. Coulson sent me"  
  
"I remember you,” she said, sounding mildly annoyed. “Where are the rest?"  
  
"Yeah, about that." He glanced at the door. "We need to get out of here."  
  
"I can't walk."  
  
"I noticed." He tucked his bow away again. "I'm going to have to carry you."  
  
"Give me a gun."  
  
"What?" She held out a hand. "Why? So you can shoot me in the leg while I-" She shook her head at him. "Oh." Trust exercise. If this was them playing mind games they would never give her a gun.  
  
He squatted in front of her again, pulling out one of his guns. He turned and fired once into the dead soldier next to them, demonstrating that it was loaded. He took her good hand and wrapped it around the barrel, looking her in the eye as he pressed it to his forehead. "Agent Clinton Francis Barton, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, badge number 489763294. Handler is Senior Agent Philip Coulson. And I need to get you out of here."  
  
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good thing you have honest eyes." She thumbed the safety back on. "I'm keeping this."  
  
"Suit yourself," he said. "Just don't shoot me while I’m carrying you out. And I apologize because this is going to hurt like a bitch."  
  
"I know." She held up her good arm. "Fireman carry's the only way to do it. Keeps one hand free for you at least."  
  
"Well you've got brains, I'll give you that. Even with whatever they’ve been shooting you up with."  
  
"Wish you could reset the shoulder first."  
  
"No dice," he said. "No time."  
  
She sighed heavily and motioned him forward with her good arm.  
  
She only grunted a little as he lifted her into position. He was more than a little impressed that she didn't make much more noise, even raised the gun and shot at one of the bastards on the way out. Mostly he managed to avoid notice until they came to the door.  
  
Coms still weren’t working, so he had no way to get the exit code. Alarms blared as he raced back out the door he came in.  
  
"Coulson," he said as the radio came fully back online. "I could use that pickup now."  
  
He ducked into the woods as bullets rained down around them.  
  
"That's a negative," Coulson said.  
  
"What?" He bore deeper into the woods, not sure his burden was even still conscious, hoping she hadn’t dropped the gun.  
  
"I told you, we can't bring the birds in right now. We'll have to land on the other side and send agents in."  
  
"So what the fuck am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Find a damn good hiding spot and try to keep that girl warm while you go to ground. And awake, she may have a concussion. We'll follow her tracker so go to ground."  
  
He sighed, winding deeper into the wood. Finally he found a depression under a rock that was fairly sheltered. He hopped down and carefully set her back against the rock. She grunted, her head rolling on her shoulders.  
  
"Okay Agent Beddington, we have to wait for them to come pick us up. So we're just going to have to wait out the search."  
  
She sighed. "You have any water?"  
  
"Of course." He dug in his pack, twisted off the cap and held the bottle to her lips. She raised her left hand and took it, batting him away. "Small sips," he warned.  
  
"I know." She took the first small sip, rolling it around her dry mouth. She paused pointedly before taking the second small sip, sighing as it coated her throat. "They haven't been giving you fluids?"  
  
She motioned to her injured arm. "Intravenously. Doesn't help my mouth or throat though."  
  
He nodded, watched her shiver and shrugged out of his coat. "Here, lean forward, let me warm you up."  
  
"Set my arm first."  
  
"Medics are on the way."  
  
"They'll want to wait untill I'm on the ship. I don't want to go bumping through the whole fucking forest with it dislocated shoulder, dreading setting it. I'd like to get it over with."  
  
He studied her, then nodded. "All right. You can't be making noise."  
  
She nodded, wincing as he picked up her limp arm. "Quick," she said.  
  
"Like a bandaid."  
  
He pulled sharply. She grunted but her arm hung limp. "Come on, do it right." She glanced up at him. "I can't lean against you properly. Get your boot in my armpit."  
  
He sighed and paused, but did as she asked. She grunted again and her arm gave a satisfying snap.  
  
She sighed, gently laying it into her lap, stretching her fingers. "Christ, I was afraid I'd never be able to do that again." She glanced at her feet and winced.  
  
"You'll walk again too," he promised, helping her lean forward and wrapping his coat around her. He offered her the bottle again and she took another sip, settling back and pulling the coat closer, drawing her knees up to her chest.  
  
"I'm going to scout a little. I won't be far and I'll be right back."  
  
She nodded, her head bobbing loosely, shifting the gun in her left hand.  
  
As far as he could see no one was close. He came back and found her leaning against the rock, still shivering.  
  
He took the gun back and shifted down next to her by the rock, turning her across his lap. "Looks clear. Let's get you warmed up." He pealed the coat back from the shoulder that leaned against him, the uninjured left, and pulled her close.  
  
She leaned against him, closing her eye. "Got to keep you talking," he whispered to her.  
  
"Here’s your chance to learn all my secrets,” she murmured.  
  
He smiled against her cheek. “Why did you join SHIELD?”  
  
"Wanted an adventure. Wanted to do some good in the world." She snorted. "This isn't really what I imagined."  
  
He laughed. "How's that working for you?"  
  
"Yeah, I know." She shifted. "Still better than what my parents had planned."  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"If they had their way I'd be in my great grandmother's farmhouse with a husband, three kids, and a pack of farm dogs."  
  
"Farm dogs? That’s the note you end on?"  
  
"I don't know. Felt like there should be three things."  
  
"Canned vegetables in the root cellar?"  
  
"Nah, I'm no good at cooking. That process is more complicated than you think. Pile of firewood on the porch."  
  
"Fire's always nice."  
  
"You ever been there? The midwest?"  
  
"Have. I was born in Iowa."  
  
"That’s right, I forgot. What got you out?"  
  
"Forced exile. Orphaned."  
  
"Sorry, I should remember this stuff.”  
  
“Not exactly the most important thing at the moment.” He rubbed her arm as gently as he could. “Don’t worry, you’re drugged. It will come back.”  
  
“Forced exile doesn’t sound so bad. Sometimes it's for the best." She shifted, winced at it.  
  
"Not a happy childhood?"  
  
"Do many people with happy childhoods usually end up a SHIELD?"  
  
"Fair point." He spread her left hand, looking at her fingers. "You seeing anyone lately?"  
  
"In SHIELD? I’m clever enough to know even a boyfriend would be impossible. Not that I usually have a problem with that." She used her left hand to run a hand over her head. "I'm more attractive with hair and both eyes open. I'm not really the long-term sort though."  
  
"Girl after my own heart."  
  
She looked up at him. “Bobbi?”  
  
“Confirmed my bachelor lifestyle is the way to go.”  
  
She snorted. "Well my mom is convinced mine will pass. Keeps saying some day the clock will start ticking and the urge will take me."  
  
"Very old fashioned."  
  
"That's her. The idea that I might want anything more than hearth and home..." She shook her head.  
  
"Doesn't she have other kids that could distract her with grandkids?"  
  
"Don't I wish. Just me." She paused to glance up at him. "Thank you, in case I don't get a chance later."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Going in to get me out."  
  
"Just doin' my job, Ma'am."  
  
"With no backup by yourself?" She shook her head. "You took a risk. Big one."  
  
"We don't leave agents behind."  
  
She chuckled. "Some do.”  
  
"How'd you end up in this mess?"  
  
"Bad info. When's the last time you got tagged when the info was good and it all went according to plan?"  
  
"Never," he admitted. "I'm sure your handler will figure out where the bad info came from and cut it off."  
  
"Sure, that's his job."  
  
"You two look cozy."  
  
Although Clint jumped Laura barely managed to turn her head to see the contingent of SHIELD agents with her good eye. Medical Staff swarmed close while Coulson stood back to watch them peal back Clint's coat, manipulating her without making any attempt to dislodge her from his lap. She let them shift her, going completely limp against him.  
  
Coulson finally worked his way around behind so he could speak more in Clint's ear. "Well done Agent Barton."  
  
He craned his head to speak to his handler. "That going to get me out of the official write up for disobeying orders?"  
  
"I doubt it."  
  
He snorted. Two men came with a stretcher, getting it as close as they could before they started manhandling the woman. She handed the gun back to Clint so that she could grip her right arm with her left, holding it protectively across her stomach. "Careful, her right shoulder was dislocated. And her feet are a mess."  
  
"Yeah, we got it," one of the medical staff, probably one that had dealt with him before, grumbled.  
  
He stood when the woman was on the stretcher, watching them hook her up to the various machines monitoring her vitals. Her good eye closed and by all appearances she passed out. He spoke to Coulson quietly, and when they lifted the stretcher her left hand suddenly shot out to catch his wrist. "Clint."  
  
"Hm?" He turned attentively to her.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You said that." He patted her shoulder. "Any time."


	7. Thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be more smut.

He was just working up a good sweat, really getting loose. His partner was good. Not as good as him, but good enough to keep him on his toes about half the time. Good enough that he didn’t accidentally put him down. He wished again Coulson was there so he could get a decent workout in, but this would have to do.  
  
He cataloged the entry of the ten trainees with the same automatic corner of his mind his spy-trained brain always did. They looked exhausted, drenched in sweat and visibly wilting. Their trainer distributed them around the room, setting them to work. A few to sparing but most of them on weights or treadmills. She worked her way around the room with a lithe grace only prima ballerinas and agents ten years in the field earned.  
  
When she stopped to watch him spar he cataloged her in glances on the move. Pixie short hair in dark brown, chocolate eyes to match. Strong nose, high cheekbones. Slim. Leggings that showed off her toned legs and a workout bra that revealed a scar on her midriff, probably a knife wound. Well tended, probably plied with coco butter after the fact. Someone was vain.  
  
When his opponent signaled a break he stopped to look at her and blinked in surprise as she put a hand on her hip and canted it with a grin on her face. Her nose had changed shape, probably broken since he last saw her but there was no mistaking her.  
  
"Agent Beddington?"  
  
She clucked her tongue as she stepped forward and started circling him. "I wasn't a fan of my father's. I prefer Laura."  
  
"Laura," he corrected. "What can I do for you?"  
  
“Can I have a turn?”  
  
“Sure.” He glanced around. “Want to put on some padding?” She blew a raspberry at him. He shrugged. “Just checking.”  
  
They fell into a guard stance and started circling. “So you look better.” He made a feint to her right and moved to the left but she blocked easily, returning with a kick aimed at his head that he ducked.  
  
“Thank you,” she said. “Although that’s a pretty low bar. Being able to walk, having hair, and getting my manicure back worked wonders.” He punched toward the scar on her right torso, prepared to make a grab at her when she moved left but she dropped and rolled out of the way, managing to kick his right leg out from under him.  
  
He shifted easily onto his left, spinning and falling back. She hurried to her feet and they went back to circling. “I was talking about your feet mostly.”  
  
“I got lucky on that front. They tried out some new experimental treatment and gave me one of the best PT specialists we have.” He spun toward her, crowding her with a series of hits and kicks that backed her steadily toward the edge of the mat. Finally she stood her ground, letting his kick land, but turning so it caught her mostly on the hip. She wrapped her arms around his foot and went down, rolling. His choice was to either let her snap his ankle or drop and roll with her.  
  
He dropped, pulling his leg in as soon as he caught himself on the mat. Drug her toward him and it turned into a mad grappling on the mat. She slipped out of his grasp a few times but never got far enough that he couldn’t get a hand on her and drag her back. He took a few hits in the process, a bruise blooming on his cheek and another on his ribs that he was pretty sure was pure payback for the hip shot (despite the fact that she set that up), but his weight won out and he finally had her pinned.  
  
She stared into his eyes, both of them breathing deeply, taking in each other’s breaths. She didn’t flinch as his sweat dripped down on her face. “I was sorry things didn’t work out for you and Bobbi.”  
  
His eyes widened and he pushed away from her, hurrying to his feet. “Low blow.”  
  
She shrugged, standing and rolling her shoulders. “Seriously.”  
  
“Because of your helpful little lecture?”  
  
She shook her head. “Seriously, Clint, you’re the only one going there. You two were good together.”  
  
He aggressively came after her. She slipped out of his grasp, backing up but staying away from the edge. “She changed.”  
  
Laura shrugged. “People do that I hear. You did too.” She started returning his punches and kicks, pushing his jabs out of the way, overbalancing him but not following up. “When did you get so judgy?”  
  
“When I decided I didn’t want to be the kid rotting in jail.” He shook his head, trying to keep sweat out of his eyes. “When I decided I wanted to be able to live with myself, sleep at night.”  
  
“Are you?” She returned a hit, nearly got him in the cheek again.  
  
“Am I what?”  
  
“Sleeping.” She shifted behind a kick aimed at his side and caught him in the lower back. “All by yourself in that cold bed?”  
  
He sneered at her. “Who says I have trouble filling it?”  
  
She rolled her eyes, which gave him room for a hit to her blind side. She grabbed his arm and spun, pushing him over her hip. She was on him before the breath had finished whooshing out of his lungs, hands pinned over his head, leg with all of her weight planted firmly across his gut.  
  
Her eyes sparkled down at him. He wasn’t sure if it was just anger he saw there, or if there wasn’t something else deeper there.  
  
He decided to play the hunch. He really didn’t have much more than his pride to risk and he parted with that often enough it didn’t really get to him anymore.  
  
He surged up, pressing his lips to hers. He dimly heard the trainees whoop. He waited until the shock wore off (a surprisingly short moment) and she softened against him. He tried to surge up, using the strength of his arms to reverse their positions.  
  
She was ready for that, shifting her weight in a moment to pin his securely to the mat. Strength was no help against her superior position.  
  
She pulled back, shaking her head at him. “Control freak much?”  
  
He shrugged. “When the mood strikes. I don’t seem to recall you complaining.”  
  
“Hm.” She studied him, rolled to plant her behind on the mat next to him. “I had you pegged as more the type that likes a take-charge woman.”  
  
He laughed. “Because of Bobbi?”  
  
“Doesn’t hurt.”  
  
“People are different in the bedroom sometimes.”  
  
She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m not familiar with Bobbi in all aspects?”  
  
He looked up at her sharply. He blinked twice. “Wait, what?” he said, suddenly sitting up.  
  
She laughed, shaking her head. “Guess she never told you that story.” With a shrug she grabbed a bottle of water and headed out of the room. “Trainees dismissed.”  
  
He scrambled to get out of the room ahead of the kids. “Wait, what?” She glanced over her shoulder as she ducked into the women’s showers. He only hesitated a moment before following.  
  
She was in an empty corner of the lockers so he could get to her without earning any shrieks or lectures. “What story?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Did you just chase me into the locker room in search of some lesie story about your ex-wife?”  
  
“You blame me?”  
  
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you. What is with guys? You would be completely shut out of the equation. Why is that so attractive to you? What-“  
  
He growled under his breath, then surged forward to kiss her into silence.  
  
She wrapped her fists and his shirt and spun, pressing him against the locker and using her hands to hold his head in place so that she could plunder his mouth. He let himself enjoy if for a few moments. He met her tongue and instead of withdrawing she pressed the issue. When she withdrew she nipped at the tongue that tried to follow and assaulted his lips lightly before drawing back.  
  
He licked his lips, studying her as she pulled back to give him time. "And you were accusing me of being a control freak?"  
  
“I don’t hear you complaining,” she said with a grin before returning to pressing herself against him and kissing him senseless.  
  
When they came up for air he looked at her. “This isn’t some weird thank you is it?”  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"This isn't some weird thank you for getting you out?"  
  
She laughed. "No." She stepped forward again. "When I was out there, freezing my ass off, trying not to pass out from the pain, there was one thing that...distracted me." She ran her hands down his arms and up under his shirt. She gathered it, and he ducked obligingly to let her remove it. She sucked in her breath, eyes running over him. "Beautiful. I wasn't really in much of a position to do anything about it then." She stepped close again, running her hands over him. "I know Bobbi’s type, which means I know yours. And I have lost more than a few minutes remembering those callouses and the things you can do with that tongue.” She met his eyes, pure hunger in them now. “God I want to run my nails down your back." She nuzzled her head into his neck, gently running the tips of her teeth over his muscles, which jumped at her touch. She turned her head, running her nails over his shoulder. "Want to sink my teeth into you, just a little." She grinned up at him, head tilted down in a coy little look he could imagine pulling in marks by the dozen. "What do you say?"  
  
He paused. "I would say we should take this somewhere a little more private." He glanced behind her. "Believe me, Coulson comes in here and catches us, he'll give us a lecture that could peal paint."  
  
She chuckled. "That would put a damper on things. Sounds good to me." Without missing a beat she grabbed the bag from her locker and turned and walked out.  
  
He had to trot to catch up, and grabbed her by the arm and turning her down another hall. “Mine’s closer.” With a shrug she followed easily.  
  
His room was very close. A few more turns and he was punching into the door. "So this is it," he said, opening the door.  
  
She came in behind him, barely letting the door close before she grabbed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and backing herself against the wall. He followed her lead, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her flush against him. She moaned when their hips met and her leg crept up his hip.  
  
He took a moment to just enjoy kissing her, memorizing her taste and the feel of her body against him, his hand running up her spine.  
  
She didn't seem interested in that approach. He didn't even notice her hand opening his pants but suddenly her hand was around him.  
  
He gave a choked gasp, stumbling back a few paces and grabbing her hand. "Whoa, slow down a little."  
  
She pouted a bit, perusing him. "Where's the fun in that?"  
  
He grabbed her hands, careful to keep them out of the danger zone, although he let her draw close enough for a lingering kiss. "Let me show you." He bent down, sweeping her into his arms. She shrieked, scrambling to wrap an arm around his neck, and laughter bubbled beneath.  
  
He carried her to the bed and lay her down with a lingering kiss before he moved out of her reach. He caught her pants and drew them off with her underwear. He looked to her for any hesitation, but she just sat up and removed her sports bra.  
  
He looked her over and shook his head. "I have no idea what, but I did something good."  
  
"Busted in and saved my ass against orders?"  
  
He laughed. "Fair enough." He ran a hand up her thighs, parting her and running his fingers over her, watching her reaction. She lay back with a sigh that turned into a moan in the back of her throat.  
  
He grinned his pleasure and leaned forward to add his tongue with gusto. He was very satisfied to hear her pant out, "Fuck."  
  
She squirmed deliciously against him as he worked but it only took him a few passes to sense something was missing. He found it when he edged a finger into her and she cried out. "Do that again," she gasped.  
  
He added a second finger and twisted, using the hard earned callouses. She nearly came off the bed, her back bowing and he grinned as he did it again.  
  
It didn’t take long for her to come completely undone. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the feel of her tightening around him, imagining her doing it around him. He kept it up, pulling her through the aftershocks until she pushed his hand away, gasping for air.  
  
He grinned as he kissed his way up her body, pausing to pay her breasts particular attention. She reached up to run her fingers through his short-cropped hair.  
  
He grinned up at her as she gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Well don't you just look very pleased with yourself?"  
  
"I am," he said, chuckling. "Aren't you well pleased with me?"  
  
"I am." She wrapped her legs around him. "Care to show me what else you've got?"  
  
"I thought you'd never ask." She helped him push his pants away, sighing as she took him in hand.  
  
His eyes threatened to roll back in his head and he buried his head in her shoulder with a groan. "Come on Clint," she sighed.  
  
"Yes ma'am," he whispered, pressing into her. He slid all the way home with a groan she echoed. He gritted his teeth when her nails bit into his back. Her chuckle said she could feel him jump in response.  
  
He started to move, trying to set a slow pace but her leg around his waist spurned him on. "Clint, fuck," she panted. "More."  
  
He responded but he buried his head in her neck. "Laura, I-" He cried out when she bit down on his shoulder just hard enough to draw blood. "God, I'm not going to last if you keep doing that."  
  
"Good," she said with a laugh.  
  
"Laura, I want to feel you come."  
  
She took the wrist he wasn't using to support his weight and guided it between them. "Put those clever fingers of yours to use."  
  
He obeyed and she made a very satisfied noise. Spurred on he did it again and her legs tightened around him.  
  
The noises she was making did nothing to hold him back and he gritted his teeth, trying to wait for the tell-tale fluttering. Finally she tightened around him with a shriek, her nails biting deep into his back and he let go.  
  
He collapsed next to her. She giggled a bit, then the giggles seemed to take her, turning into a laughing fit that had her wiping at her eyes.  
  
"I hope that's supposed to be a compliment," he said, eying her wearily.  
  
"Oh, it is." She lay back with a sigh. "Wow. Like, wow."  
  
"That's more like it," he said, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her to rest her head on his chest.  
  
"Does this mean you're not kicking me out?"  
  
"You have my license to stay as long as you would like," he assured her, dropping a kiss on top of her short hair and settling back.


	8. Sweet Dreams

Afterward he never did remember his dreams. It wasn't unusual. He had flashes, really it was just a patchwork of memories. SHIELD jobs gone wrong, he'd been captured and tortured before. Probably nothing that extreme compared to what a lot of agents had been through.  
  
But it was the stuff of nightmares.  
  
Later he would think it was probably her being there that brought it up. Remembering her experience, the mess he’d pulled her out of.  
  
He awoke to a steady weight on his chest. "Clint, wake up," she was ordering, hand firmly planted in the middle of his chest to keep him from thrashing. One of her hands was holding his against the bed and she was avoiding the other.  
  
He stopped the moment the situation hit home, gasping for breath. "Laura," he managed. "I'm so-"  
  
"Shh," she ordered. "Focus on breathing." She took the wrist she had captured, smoothing his hand open and pressed it over her heart. "Deep breaths, like me. Match my heartbeat."  
  
He took a moment to do so, only slightly distracted by the fact that his hand was now dangerously close to her naked breast.  
  
When his breathing had stilled and his heart rate was approaching normal she settled back onto his chest, closing her eyes as if nothing had happened.  
  
"Got your PhD?” he asked when he could trust his voice.  
  
“Doctoral thesis in PTSD, it’s been published even. They wanted me to go back out in the field, do some more research.”  
  
“Well at the moment, I’m glad you didn’t.” He ran his fingers through the ends of her hair. “You’re good. No wonder SHIELD wanted you so badly.”  
  
"Well, after seeing you shoot, right back at you." She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. "Actually I should go."  
  
"Don't feel like you have to."  
  
"I don't. But I'd have to get up in half an hour anyway. I seem to be all sweaty and gross so I better shower, and then I have a briefing."  
  
"You're shipping out?"  
  
She chuckled at the hurt in his voice. "You know how SHIELD is. SO demanding."  
  
"I wouldn't mind the chance to do this again."  
  
She chuckled. "Well, when I get in I'll see if you're on the base. If you aren't you look me up. We're bound to match up sooner or later."  
  
"I look forward to it." He grinned as she gathered her things. When she was dressed she hopped back onto the bed to give him one last heart stopping kiss, then let herself out with a last little wiggle of her ass that had him groaning into his pillow.  
  
*************************************************************************************************************  
  
It was six weeks before he saw her again.  
  
It started with a pounding on his door. A glance at the clock showed that it was 3 am. He wracked his brain to come up with a reason Coulson might be after him but nothing came to mind and the knocker didn't seem very happy with the wait.  
  
He got out of bed and pulled open the door. "What?"  
  
He caught a flash of brown hair and long skirt hurtling into the room. A body pressed him into the wall. Slim, long-fingered hands captured his face and insistent lips met his. He responded tentatively, pulling back when the pressure let up.  
  
He studied her face in the light from the electronics around the room. "Laura?"  
  
She grabbed his shoulders and spun them, pressing herself up against the wall and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close. Her leg climbed up his hip and she kissed him with gusto. When he hesitated her hand breached the barrier of his boxer shorts and he gasped into her mouth. "Laura."  
  
"Shh," she ordered with a finger to his lips. She shoved his boxers down. He stumbled out of them as she grabbed his hand and drug him into the bedroom. She kissed him deeply and shoved him back onto the bed. He bounced a few times, staring up at the woman before him. She took off her shirt and tossed it behind her, hiking up her skirt to crawl over him. He scooted up the bed, grabbing her hips to guide her with him.  
  
She went, grinding down onto him. There was nothing under her skirt.  
  
He groaned as she leaned forward, her breasts dangling tantalizingly before his eyes. He groaned again when she stroked him, his hips helping. He knew he should stop. Something wasn't right. They should discuss this.  
  
But, well, it had been six weeks. And she was good. Very good. A corner of his brain wondered if it was the psychological training, SHIELD training, or just good old fashioned know-how.  
  
And then his brain stopped thinking anything at all as her hips snapped forward and buried him inside and he was too busy thanking whatever deity watched over him to worry about conversation.  
  
She was using short, sharp thrusts to bury him to the hilt and when she leaned forward to kiss him there was more teeth than tongue in it and he responded in kind which made her growl and move faster. She shoved his hand up under her skirt and he obeyed the unspoken command, using his fingers the way he'd fantasized about more than once in the last six weeks.  
  
It was short and brutal and over quickly. He wasn't sure if she got there or not but there was no doubt that she wasn't going to give him the time it would have taken to make sure.  
  
She rolled off of him and lay on her back next to him, both of them taking the time to catch their breath.  
  
He looked over at her. "I'm not complaining mind you, but do I get to ask what that was about?"  
  
"Mission," she gasped out. "Bad mission."  
  
He ran a hand down her arm. "Who died?"  
  
"No, no one. Not that kind of a bad mission."  
  
"What kind then?"  
  
"The kind that makes me need to do this to remind myself I can still do it for me. That I can still enjoy it."  
  
He ran a finger down his cheek. "Is that all women in SHIELD then?"  
  
She shrugged. "They don't all take these jobs. But it's a pretty powerful weapon in our arsenal. Seems like a waste not to use it." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me, just to..."  
  
He laughed. "Hey, consider this my full permission. Any time, you just knock on my door." He reached over and pulled her close. "Think you can sleep now?"  
  
She nodded with a chuckle. "I think that just may have done it."  
  
"Good." He pulled the covers up over them. "Good night Laura."


	9. Chapter 9

Clint woke to the unfamiliar sound of his toilet flushing and the squeak of the bathroom door opening.  
  
Clint rolled over to watch Laura trying to sneak back to the bed. She jumped when he said, “Can’t sleep?”  
  
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll just go.”  
  
“Toss and turn in your own bed?”  
  
“No, I have a place I go,” she said. “Take a run.”  
  
He sat up. “Can I come?”  
  
She considered him. “You have a car?”  
  
“Of course.” He got up and started dressing. “Cherry red 1975 Mustang.”  
  
She shook her head. “Compensating for something, Mr. Barton?”  
  
He shrugged. “You’ve seen the goods.”  
  
She laughed at that. “Meet me in the foyer in ten minutes. I’m going to go get changed.”  
  
He found her in the foyer in an old ratty army shirt and running shorts that had him shaking his head. “Well that’s motivation, I’ll give you that.” He couldn’t resist the urge to wrap his arms around her waist.  
  
She shook her head. “Really? It’s been three hours.”  
  
“Hey, I’ve never heard anyone complain about stamina.”  
  
“Well then, we better get going,” she said, snatching the keys from his hand and turning toward the parking garage.  
  
“Hey, who said you get to drive?”  
  
She shrugged. “You know where you’re going?”  
  
“And that means you get to just take my car?”  
  
She shrugged. “Tell you what, you can take them from me you can have them.” With a grin she turned and sprinted down the hallway.  
  
“Oh you are in so much trouble,” he said, breaking into a run after her.  
  
She was known around the base for her long-distance running. Rumor had it she loved nothing more than torturing the new kids by jogging ahead of them screaming insults for miles. He knew she could outrace him for hours, so relief flooded him when she took a familiar turn  
  
He knew this route. It was one of her favorites with the recruits, mostly because it took them back into a seldom-used part of the base that mostly housed tech equipment where they were unlikely to encounter other agents.  
  
It also contained a lot of duct work to cool said equipment, as well as being the center for the heating and cooling systems.  
  
He fell back a bit, waiting for her to round a corner before he ducked into the utility closet (the locks on these things were jokes, he had no idea why anyone bothered). The duct work was so large he barely had to duck to swerve through the tunnel, only slowing to keep his footfalls from echoing through the metal shafts. He hurried through her route, short cutting straight across, and coming out what had to be blocks ahead of her even if she had broken into a dead sprint.  
  
He cautiously emerged from the utility closet and tucked himself around the corner, behind some pipes to wait.  
  
He didn’t have to wait long. Even without him on her heals she was FAST.  
  
He stepped out as she came around the corner, catching her around the waist. She gave a short shriek that reverberated off the walls around them. Spinning she managed to knee him in the groin before withdrawing into a defensive stance.  
  
She didn’t really need to bother. He stumbled, trying to regain his footing even as he remained doubled over.  
  
“Clint!” she yelled when her eyes finally cleared enough to see him. “How did get there?”  
  
He opened his mouth to try to answer but all that came out was a wheeze. She put her hands on her hips and actually stomped her foot once. “Come on, quit being such a baby.” Moving over she grabbed his arm and helped him straighten.  
  
“Easy for you to say,” he groaned.  
  
“Well you should know better than to sneak up on an agent. How did you do that anyway?”  
  
“If there was any chance I was going to tell you before I’ve certainly changed my mind now,” he sighed, leaning on the wall.  
  
“Well I think you’ve learned better than to try to use it on me again,” she responded.  
  
“Or at least make sure I’m wearing a cup.”  
  
She shook her head. “Poor baby. Are you going to go back to your room and lick your wounds then? Because I want to finish my run.”  
  
“You expect me to run after that?”  
  
She shrugged. “If we were in the field I sure as hell would.”  
  
“If we were in the field I’d be a little more protected.”  
  
“That sounds like your own stupid fault.”  
  
He glared at her, while a satisfied little smirk settled over her lips. “Okay. You get to bed sleepy head. I’m just going for a nice little joy ride.”  
  
“Not in my car you’re not,” he said, springing forward suddenly.  
  
Laughing she danced out of his reach. “Oh, feeling more spry now are we?” Turning she started down the hall at a lope. “Better keep up then.”  
  
He limped after her with a groan. “I don’t like you anymore.”  
  
She turned, jogging backward. “I’m heartbroken. Really, I am.”  
  
He managed to keep up all the way out to the garage, finally giving up to lead her to his car, holding open the door for her to slide into the driver’s seat.  
  
She slid an appreciative hand over the interior. “Nice. You redo this?”  
  
“I had a friend of mine that gave me a hand,” he said with a nod, putting the top down as Laura fastened her seat belt. She waited until he was settled to pull out of the lot and into the cool night air. “You know, it just occurs to me that I never asked if you actually have a driver’s license.”  
  
“Of course I do. I took the same extreme driving course you did.”  
  
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”  
  
With a chuckle she accelerated down the nearly empty road.  
  
She was a good driver, and he couldn’t find any fault in her obvious enjoyment. She even slowed down when she turned off the highway onto a gravel path leading into the woods. He shook his head when she continued onto what could be generously called a game path. “You know this isn’t a 4-wheeler, right?”  
  
“Relax, I’m not taking you mudding.”  
  
He watched the gap ahead with trepidation. “You’re sure you can make it through?”  
  
“Please. I can get the SUV’s through here. I have this covered.”  
  
She did indeed navigate the thick trees without so much as bumping a rear view mirror, finally pulling to a stop and opening the door. “Everyone out.”  
  
He glanced around the woods as she started down the trail at a light lope. “You come out here alone?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a fully trained agent with a gun. What’s going to come up that I can’t handle?”  
  
“I don’t know. I feel like a guy with a chainsaw should pop up any moment.”  
  
She laughed. “Only the virgins will live.”  
  
“Well we’re both screwed then,” he commented.  
  
“Literally,” she chuckled. “I’d say it’s worth taking the chance.”  
  
“Aw, thanks.”  
  
“Who said I was referring to you?” she snorted.  
  
“You’ve been pretty free with your praise there, Agent Beddington.”  
  
“Not so that you can go getting a big head,” she responded. “You might decide you’re too good for me and start sniffing around the younger agents.”  
  
“Nah,” he said, drawing close to loop an arm around her shoulder. “You’ll do for another ten years. At least.” He chuckled as he swerved to the left to avoid her kick.  
  
“Yeah, well I’d dump you after five old man.”  
  
“Oh, that hurts almost as much as when you kneed me earlier.”  
  
“Really? Come closer and I’ll help you compare,” she said.  
  
“And to think, Bobbi said I’d never find another one like her.”  
  
“I think we’ve figured out your type.”


	10. Wrinkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post this. There has been a lot of illness. I'll try to make it up to you with a faster update next time.

"How are you doing this?" Clint asked as he pulled himself off of the mat again. "I've got, what, seventy pounds on you?"  
  
"All muscle right?" Laura asked as she fell into the guard stance. She shook her head as he lashed out at her again, twisting to use his own momentum to send him sailing over her hip. "All about using that weight against you." She offered him a hand up.  
  
"You know, this isn't at all how I saw this going."  
  
"Oh really?" She raised an eyebrow at him when he rolled his shoulder before taking her hand. "How was that?"  
  
He shifted his weight, grinning in satisfaction as she fell on top of him with a shriek. He rolled them, pinning her down. "That's better."  
  
"I thought we were training," she said, the grin ruining the scolding tone.  
  
"What would you call this?"  
  
"Flirting," she answered.  
  
"All in good fun," he assured her, his hand running up her side as his lips met hers.  
  
"Jeeze you two, get a room!"  
  
Clint pulled back but Laura, remaining completely relaxed beneath him, flipped off the man in question. "You know you've been enjoying staring at his ass for the last twenty minutes," she called.  
  
"Hate to see a good man wasted on a good-for-nothing pathetic scrap of an agent like you."  
  
He shook his head down at her. "Your partner is a pain in the ass."  
  
"At least he hasn't referred to you as 'sweet pants' in the last ten minutes."  
  
"Hm." He drew closer. "If only he knew."  
  
She laughed. "Yeah, like you don't have a girl in every port."  
  
He paused. "What about you?"  
  
"What about me?"  
  
"Am I just one of a string?"  
  
She shook her head. "Work aside?"  
  
"Obviously. Kind of glad I'm not one of your marks."  
  
"Who says you aren't?"  
  
He laughed, letting her up. "Might be the best time I've ever had being taken." He paused again. "Seriously."  
  
"You? Serious?"  
  
He shrugged, leaning forward onto his knees. "What are we doing here?"  
  
"What are my options?"  
  
"Going steady?"  
  
She burst out laughing. "Are we in High School?"  
  
"I never went."  
  
She paused. "Okay."  
  
"Okay what?"  
  
"Okay. Guess we're dating. Exclusively."  
  
He grinned. "That works for me." He leaned close. "So what are the fringe benefits of dating exclusively?"  
  
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "I'll tell you on one condition."  
  
"What do I have to do to get you to show me?"  
  
"Well first you have to catch me."  
  
She took off like a shot and damn she was fast. She could keep it up too. He might have spent some time covertly watching her torture the new kids, running them over every inch of this base, and she was always in the lead.  
  
He could cover distance, or he could be fast. He wasn't one of those rare breeds that could do both.  
  
She was taking it easy on him. Going through straightaways that kept her in sight. And then she streaked into the cafeteria.  
  
He didn't think, following her at speed. That was a problem with him. He didn't think. She'd been warned, he was pretty sure. It wasn't that hard to figure out. If he hadn't told her one way or another.  
  
Some people looked up as she ran through but most didn't even blink an eye. More looked when he started going over tables, but he avoided any food so no one was yelling yet.  
  
He wasn't really in trouble until she ducked under the tables, started moving out of sight.  
  
He was good at watching, but he was better at finding a perch. This wasn't his best vantage point.  
  
He slowed down, trying to look, and he never saw the hand that jerked his right leg out from under him, or foot that bent his left knee in. He crashed to the floor in what he was sure was a fantastic display.  
  
He felt a sharp little elbow in his back. “Ah ha, found you,” he said.  
  
“Yeah, good job on that,” she chuckled.  
  
He shifted suddenly, turning to pin her under him. “Oh, that’s how you do it?”  
  
“That’s it. Now you know my secret.”  
  
She shook her head at him, then her eyes slid behind him. “Hey Phil.”  
  
“Agent Beddington.”  
  
She blew a raspberry at him as Clint scurried off of her, falling into a cross legged sit. “Hey Phil.”  
  
Phil shook his head at the agent behind him. “You can take the carnie out of the circus…”  
  
“Aw, now, that’s not fair,” Laura interrupted. “I did it and I’ve hardly even been CAMPING.”  
  
“You haven’t?” Clint asked. She shook her head. “Well I better take you then.”  
  
“Agent Barton,” Phil snapped. “Little focus please.”  
  
“Yes, si-“  
  
He wasn’t sure what caught his attention first. There was a noise, but it was understated, a soft clang of her arm against metal. Her other arm brushing his back.  
  
“Shit!” several people that had gathered around skidded back.  
  
He turned. Laura’s head was snapped back, her eye wide, her hands in frozen claws, her arms jerking.  
  
“She’s seizing,” Phil said, shrugging out of his jacket and stepping over Clint to kneel beside her. “Roll her on her side,” he instructed, pressing his jacket under her head. “Don’t let her hit her head on anything. Someone call medical!”  
  
Several people moved while Clint helped roll her and keep her on her right. “You know anything about this?” Phil asked.  
  
Clint shook his head dumbly. “Roger,” he said. “Her partner’s in the gym. Grab him,” he called.  
  
It only took moments for Roger to arrive, although it felt like ages, watching her drool onto Phil’s jacket and jerk.  
  
“Not again,” Roger sighed, crouching next to her, pulling back her arm before she could claw at her face.  
  
“Again?” Clint asked.  
  
“She didn’t tell you?” He sighed and shook his head. “Not much time I suppose, and she doesn’t like to talk about it. Three weeks ago, took a nasty blow to the head. I’ve seen her shake off worse 100 times over, but this keeps happening.”  
  
People backed up automatically as the medical team swarmed around them, dropping their bags and equipment. He nodded familiarly at Roger. “Again?”  
  
“How many times has this happened?”  
  
Roger sighed. “Four, five?”  
  
Clint blanched. “But three weeks.” He looked at the medics. “That could straighten out right?”  
  
“Seizures are incredibly common and can be caused by nearly anything,” the medic said. “We have no reason to think it won’t straighten out.”  
  
She stopped at that point, dropping limply on the floor. “Get a stretcher over here, let’s get her to the med bay.”  
  
“Why isn’t she waking up?”  
  
“She usually doesn’t,” Roger said.  
  
“She’s exhausted,” the medic said as Clint helped move her onto the stretcher. “Her brain is reorganizing. It will take a little bit.”  
  
“Can I come with you?” he asked.  
  
The medic looked at Phil, who shrugged. “Sure. There won’t be much to see. We’ll take some tests, upgrade her medication.”  
  
He was sitting by her bed holding a cup of coffee when she opened her eyes with a groan about an hour later. She glanced around the room, then up at him with a grimace. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Another seizure?” He nodded. “Sorry, meant to warn you about that. Although I was sort of hoping it wouldn’t happen again.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he said  
  
“We were in the gym?”  
  
“No. You’d moved on to kicking my ass in front of the whole cafeteria.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“You don’t remember?”  
  
“It’s not unusual. Lose ten, fifteen minutes.”  
  
“Well you did well. I’ll pull up the footage so you can enjoy it fully.”  
  
“Thanks.” She grinned as he studied the coffee cup.  
  
“So how much of the gym do you remember?”  
  
“You mean the discussion about our relationship status?”  
  
He grinned. “Yeah, about that.”  
  
She shifted. “If you haven’t changed your mind because I’m damaged goods.”  
  
“It will take more than a little seizure to convince me of that.”  
  
“Well then, in about six weeks my cousin is getting married, and I’m in the wedding. My mother would be thrilled if I brought someone who wouldn’t spent the entire time flirting with my Uncle.”  
  
“You took Richard?”  
  
“The last three times.”  
  
“How many cousins do you have?”  
  
“Well, my cousins aren’t all my cousins.”  
  
“What are they?”  
  
“Extended family. Second cousins, third cousins five times removed. Growing up I called my parents’ cousins aunt and uncle and their kids were my cousins. I swear, I’m related to half the town.” She glanced up as the door opened. “Hey Phil. Put on a show for you too?”  
  
“I’m glad to see you’re up, Agent. I’m afraid I need to steal Clint.”  
  
“I’ll be right with you.” Phil disappeared with a nod. “I’ll go to the wedding if I can,” he told her. “You know how the job is.”  
  
She grinned. “Of course. Shoot straight.”  
  
“Get better.”


	11. Confession

It was a week before he was back, catching her straight out of a session with a mountain of a man wiping streaming eyes as she put him at ease.  
  
He’d had a speech. He’d had a week to work it out. And while he was bringing it to mind she walked across the room to kiss him and-  
  
Well, as usual, they’d ended up in his slim bunk with her cheek on his chest as they both tried to catch their breath.  
  
“So tell me about this family I’m going to meet.”  
  
“Well, we’ll stay in the house my great-great-great…” She paused to count in her head. “Yeah. Grandfather built. Straight here from Norway. Started farming. Growing up my spinster Great Aunt lived there.” She grinned at him, suddenly looking much younger than her age. “I’d spend a few weeks there every summer.”  
  
“Kindred spirits?”  
  
“Totally. It was heaven for a kid. Timber, creek, barn. I got to drive old pickups and tractors. She had horses for a while. There’s this huge open field in front of the house.”  
  
“Isn’t Iowa just one big field anyway?”  
  
“Depends on where you are. It can be hilly in the east. Good skiing. And the Loess Hills out west. And…” He was smiling at her fondly. “Yeah, okay.”  
  
“You’re an Iowa girl.”  
  
“It gets in your blood when you least expect it.”  
  
“So what about your parents?”  
  
She sighed. “My father is dead. Several years now. My mother is…a handful.”  
  
“How’s that?”  
  
“She has issues. She’s needy. Not…she isn’t mentally handicapped. Just anxiety. Depression. She’s emotionally exhausting.”  
  
“What did your father die of?”  
  
“Cirrhosis of the liver.”  
  
“Drunk.”  
  
“For sure.”  
  
“Bad?”  
  
“Yep.” She rolled away from him. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
He waited a few moments, then rolled over to put his arm around her. “Did he…talk with his hands?”  
  
“I SAID I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“Laura, I’ve been there.”  
  
“Except for the part where your father wrapped his car around a tree before you could really remember.”  
  
“You know, I’d kill to have those memories.”  
  
“Ug.” She kicked him and the covers away. “You can’t say that. You don’t know.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“No, you don’t know.”  
  
“I’d like to hear.”  
  
“No Clint. She looked at him with haunted eyes. “You wouldn’t.”  
  
“Try me.”  
  
“God, I am not! I am not going to fall into your arms and weep about my asshole father. I’m not some damsel in distress. I’m not looking for you to save me!”  
  
“Does that mean I can’t listen?”  
  
“What do you want to hear?” She stood and spun on him, naked, hands clenched into fists. “You want to hear about how he was calling me a stupid bitch since I was three? How I was eight the first time I watched my mother slit her wrists? Twelve the first time I called the police because I thought he was going to kill her? Fifteen when I pulled him off of her? You know I announced I was going to college and he asked why I would pay someone to make me miserable when he’d do it for free? I told him he already did.” She laughed, just a little hysterically. “How about the last week of my senior year of High School when he came after me with a fucking gun?”  
  
“Oh, Laura.”  
  
“No!” She pointed a finger at him. “Do not fucking pity me. I’m not some little lamb in need of protecting.”  
  
He sighed, pushing the blanket out of his way to come to his knees on the floor, approaching carefully with an extended arm, telegraphing every movement before he made it before finally pulling her close. “Can I tell you what I see?”  
  
She glared at him but didn’t say anything, folding her arms over her bare breasts, but she didn’t pull back.  
  
“I see a woman that is so strong. And beautiful.” He kissed her stomach, running his hands lower. He twisted suddenly, laying her down on the bed. She squeaked and caught herself with her arms. “And there is nothing I like more,” he teased, running his hands over her, “than watching strong, beautiful women writhe under my hands.”  
  
Oversensitive from their previous activities she shivered under his touch. “Clint,” she whined. “You can’t fix everything with sex.”  
  
“You sound like my ex wife,” he said, running his nose along her thigh. “And as I always used to tell her, it’s fun to try.”


	12. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been so long coming. There were a lot more pieces than I expected. And things have pickup at work which cuts into my writing/thinking time. To make up for it here's a long update. Thanks everyone for hanging in there with me.

“How much further?”  
  
“Isn’t it supposed to be ‘are we there yet?’” Laura asked, steering the pickup surely down the gravel road.  
  
“I can see we aren’t there yet.”  
  
“Are you normally this bad on trips?”  
  
“No,” he sighed. “I just really want a shower. I reek.”  
  
“Sorry baby.” She reached over to rub his arm. “Thank you for coming with me. Even if I did have to pull you straight off the ‘copter.” She grined. “Watching you change out of your fatigues in the back seat was worth it.”  
  
“For you maybe.”  
  
She shook her head. “You should try getting in or out of hose or a cocktail dress in that position. With some pervy agent watching.”  
  
“Hm, I might have to talk to your handler about that.” He slipped close. “I’m the only pervy agent allowed to watch my girlfriend undress.”  
  
She chuckled as he kissed her neck. “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to work off some of that energy.”  
  
“Maybe you should pull off to the side of the road.” She laughed. “I don’t suppose we’ll be high on privacy there.”  
  
“I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
He paused to consider. “Now it sounds like you have practice at this.”  
  
“What are you getting at?” she asked.  
  
“Is there some hot cowboy I should be watching out for?”  
  
“Nah, I got over cowboys my junior year of college.”  
  
His eyes narrowed. “That kind of makes it sounds like-“  
  
“We’re here,” she announced as the trees opened. The pickup clattered over a wooden bridge that crossed a small creek and around the gravel drive.  
  
The house was large, painted white, sitting gleaming next to a proper red barn, green field leading up to it, trees ringing it, the glint of a lake behind.  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
“It’s gorgeous,” he said truthfully.  
  
“That’s something coming from a guy who’s seen as much as you,” she said. “Doesn’t compare to, say, the Eiffel Tower? Tropical islands?”  
  
“It’s different,” he said as she pulled to a stop. She got out, stooping to greet the wagging farm dogs that danced around her.  
  
He was still standing, transfixed when she came around the truck and took his hand. “Different how?”  
  
“I don’t know.” He turned in a circle. “It’s like…it’s out of a fairytale isn’t it?”  
  
She wrinkled her nose. “I guess. It just looks like home to me.”  
  
“Maybe that’s it,” he said. “Maybe I just don’t know what that’s like.”  
  
She shook her head. “Come on. Let’s go in.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
He followed her up the steps. The kitchen was noisy, children all over, several women gathered around the table fussing with the food. “Knock knock,” Laura called, pressing through the door without bothering to actually knock, letting the door slam behind them.  
  
“Hey, Laura!” one of them called. She turned, taking in Clint and their interwoven hands. “Well, hello there,” she said.  
  
She laughed. “Liz, this is Clint. Clint, Liz is my cousin who lives here.”  
  
“Hopefully not much longer,” she said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“We’re looking for a place closer to Des Moines.”  
  
“No,” Laura said.  
  
“I know. I hate to go. But the commute is killing Billy.”  
  
“Her husband,” Laura said to Clint. “So who would stay here?”  
  
“We’ve been thinking about letting Casey and Alley in.”  
  
“No, you cannot give it to the crack heads! They will destroy it!” Laura moaned.  
  
“I know. But they have seven kids and Carlie would be close enough to keep an eye on them. It’s not set in stone. We’ll see.” Her eyes went to Clint. “I was expecting you to bring Roger again. Is this your….”  
  
“Boyfriend I think is the term we’re using now,” Laura said, drawing close to him.  
  
“Well your mother will be over the moon. What do you do Clint?”  
  
He looked helplessly at Laura, not certain how much they knew about her job. He never knew what to tell people.  
  
“He’s an agent, like me,” she said, slipping around the woman to grab a carrot off a plate on the table.  
  
“And the agency is okay with that?”  
  
“We aren’t on the same team,” Laura said. “He’s a sniper. Very different worlds.”  
  
“Well it is a pleasure to meet you,” Liz told him.  
  
“So…can we stay in Aunt Erma’s room?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Liz said. “I thought I’d put you and Roger in the room with the twin beds. I suppose you want to share a bed.” Her crossed arms and shaking head telegraphed disapproval.  
  
Laura rolled her eyes. “Here’s a fun fact, Saint Liz here gave birth to her first child seven months after the wedding. I’m 32 Liz, I’m allowed to share my bed with someone if I want.”  
  
She sighed. “I suppose I could put Erin’s twins in that room. They were going to have to share a bed.”  
  
“You know I feel like home in Aunt Erma’s room,” Laura said. “Please? Please please.”  
  
She threw up her hands. “Fine, fine. But if Aunt Erma’s ghost jumps out to scold you it’s your own fault.”  
  
Laura snorted. “You kidding? Aunt Erma would jump out to take one look at him and tell me to keep up the good work.”  
  
Liz laughed. “I’m afraid you’re right.”  
  
“Clint’s anxious for a shower. I pulled him straight off transport from a mission. Let’s go get the bags,” Laura said. “Maybe I can join him,” she called over her shoulder.  
  
“At least TRY not to talk like that in front of the kids!” Liz called after her.  
  
They retrieved the bags. Clint insisted on carrying both suitcases up the stairs while she led the way. “At least let me try to convince them I’m a gentleman,” he told her as she carried the lighter overnight bags.  
  
She let him in, falling back on the bed and sighing. Clint looked around the room with approval. It was a beautiful room flooded with light, crowned by a bay window with a seat that looked out the front of the house.  
  
“Why doesn’t Liz stay in this room? It’s the master isn’t it?”  
  
“Yep. Bathroom is there,” Laura said, pointing to the door next to the bed. “There’s a door into the hallway too but it’s the only room connected directly to the bathroom.” She sat up. “But she wanted to be closer to the nursery down the hall. Didn’t like tromping half way across the house every time the baby cried.”  
  
“This place is huge.”  
  
“Yep.” Laura rolled over to watch him stick his head into the bathroom. “When they came here my ancestor intended to have a huge family and he built the house for it. Must have felt like a palace to them.” She stood up as he started digging for his bathroom bag. She smiled at the claw footed tub. “We could take a bath. I don’t know when I last had a nice hot soak.”  
  
“I didn’t know you were a bath person.”  
  
“Hm, I love to just sit and read. No tubs on the base though.”  
  
“So what would I be doing while you read?”  
  
“I could read to you.”  
  
“As much as I would love that,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, “I don’t know that being pressed naked up against you would be the best way for me to relax right now.”  
  
“Well obviously we’d have to lock the doors and get that out of our systems first. With the water running hopefully no one could hear us.”  
  
“Oh, I like this idea better and better.”  
  
******************************  
  
The knock woke him with a start. Clint reached under his pillow for his gun in a mad scramble before the pressure on his chest reminded him where he was. “Fifteen minutes?” he asked the damp haired woman resting on his chest.  
  
“Did I say that?”  
  
“I seem to recall someone suggesting we just snuggle for fifteen minutes.”  
  
“You were all warm and smelled so clean.”  
  
“Thought you liked me all sweaty and musked up.”  
  
“That’s for fucking. Clean is for cuddling.”  
  
The knocking came again. “Are you two decent?”  
  
“Not hardly ever,” Laura said around a yawn as she stretched.  
  
The door opened and Liz peaked tentatively around into the room. When she found them both fully dressed she entered the room. “The boys have a good fire going. If you want any hot dogs you better get down there.”  
  
“Was there gasoline involved in lighting this fire?” Laura asked.  
  
“Kerosene, I believe,” Liz said. “And I just heard from your mom. She should be here in about an hour.”  
  
“Amateurs,” Laura muttered.  
  
“Well you weren’t there to offer your wilderness survival tips,” Liz said with a smile.  
  
Laura stood and offered Clint her hand. “Ready?”  
  
“You aren’t wearing shoes?”  
  
She snorted. “No way. I’m a country girl. Nothing like the feel of grass under your feet.”  
  
“Watching you get across the gravel should be fun,” Liz muttered.  
  
“I’m a freaking special ops agent. I think I can handle walking on a little gravel.”  
  
She stepped a bit gingerly over the rocks but kept up easily with her companions through the grass. A group of six boys and two girls were throwing a football around the field, yelling and running.  
  
Several people called hellos as they approached. Clint seated himself next to her on a log near the fire, dutifully roasting the offered hot dogs while she talked about people he didn’t know and reminisced about events he didn’t entirely grasp, rife with inside jokes.  
  
He had finished his third hot dog and was disposing of the paper plates before the wind stole them when one of the boys with the football ran up.  
  
“Hey,” he addressed Clint immediately with the certainty of a child surrounded by family, approaching a stranger that he was certain was at his disposal. “You play football?”  
  
“I have pretty good aim,” he said with a smirk. “Why?”  
  
“We want Charlie to play but he said he only will if we can find another grown-up to play too. Will you?”  
  
He glanced up at the athletic 20-something surrounded by a group that had grown to twelve children. He glanced back at Laura who was laughing loudly with a group of brunets that obviously shared blood.  
  
“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”  
  
“Found one!” the boy proclaimed as he ran full-tilt back to the group. Clint followed at a more sedate pace, smiling at the gaggle that parted for him.  
  
The man offered his hand. “I’m Charlie.”  
  
“Clint,” he said, pleased to find the man had a firm hand.  
  
“You must be new to the group.”  
  
“Yeah, first time I’ve been here. I came with Laura.”  
  
“Ah,” he said, looking him up and down. “Met you at work? Are you a secret agent man too?”  
  
Clint laughed. “I suppose, something like that.”  
  
“You’re braver than me, man. That woman is hard as nails.”  
  
“Well, you know, bust into a facility and save her butt when she’s in a bad way, tends to soften her up.”  
  
He whistled through his teeth. “Big hero.”  
  
Clint wasn’t certain if he was joking or not, but the kids started wining that they wanted to play so they tried to divie up the kids in a way that didn’t give anyone too clear an advantage and spread out.  
  
Charlie wasn’t bad but it didn’t take the children long to figure out that if they could get Clint the ball and get open he would fire it straight to them. They weren’t keeping score but it was pretty clear from the cheers and dancing who was on the winning side.  
  
Clint kept an eye on the group around the fire, making sure Laura didn’t come looking for him. By all appearances she remained happily ensconced among the girls.  
  
The game was over when half the kids answered the call for s'mores and the other half suddenly became more interested in fireflies than football. They passed a group of parents bearing bug spray as they walked back toward the fire. Charlie clapped him on the back and said, “Man, you could have warned me. You must have been one hell of a college player.”  
  
He shook his head. “Never went to college.”  
  
“You could have, the way you must have played in High School.”  
  
“Never went there either.”  
  
Charlie gave him a curious look at that but Laura came over to him before the conversation could get any more uncomfortable.  
  
She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Having fun?"  
  
"Yep." He dropped a kiss on top of her head as she clung. "What's this sudden cuddlebug act?"  
  
"Not an act." She sighed. "So my mother's here."  
  
"And she doesn't want to meet your gross boyfriend."  
  
"Oh, just the opposite. I just want a chance to warn you. Just...hang in there. And for God's sakes don't mention work. Particularly any danger-type work."  
  
"What if she asks how we met?"  
  
"Lie. A lot."  
  
"Are you giving me permission to lie to your mother?"  
  
"Permission? Hell, I'm ordering you to."  
  
"Oh, you give me orders now do you?"  
  
"Get used to it, boy-o."  
  
A woman came up then. "Here she is. Clinton Barton, please meet my mother, Kathy. Kathy, Clint."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you," she said, offering him a hand.  
  
She wasn't at all what he would have expected. Laura was 5'6", exactly average for an American woman. Her mother was barely five foot, assuming she'd topped that at all. She was heavy, really typical for a woman in her mid-to-late 50s. Her hair was Laura's brown and she didn't look a day over 45.  
  
"Is that a joke?" he asked. "Did she have you when she was 12?"  
  
"Twenty-four," she laughed. "But thank you. It's so nice to meet you. You're the first boy Laura's brought home since college. At least that wasn't gay." She paused. "You aren't-"  
  
"He's not gay, Mom. And he's in his thirties so he's not a boy."  
  
“I stand corrected,” she laughed, leading them over to the fire. “Let’s get you some s'mores. You can tell me all about Laura at work. She never tells me anything.”  
  
“Well, there are confidentiality clauses,” he said. “Top secret and all that. And we don’t really work together.”  
  
“Liz tells me you’re a sniper.”  
  
“That I am. I leave the hard stuff to her. I stay far away and watch the pros through my scope.”  
  
“He’ll run into the action if he needs to. And he’s dead useful behind that scope. Saved my life, I’m willing to bet more than once.”  
  
“Oh really? And you went out to put your life in danger did you?”  
  
She sighed. “We have contingencies and backup. That’s what he’s for.”  
  
“I’d be more interested to hear about this guy you brought home from college,” Clint said.  
  
“Oh, Michael. I liked him. What happened to him?” Kathy asked  
  
“He’s a lawyer,” Laura said  
  
“What? You could have been married to a lawyer?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “We make way more than he does if it’s money you’re worried about.”  
  
“Did he propose?” Clint asked.  
  
“No.”  
  
“He would have,” her mother put in.  
  
“He probably would, just because he was polite. The whole thing would have been a disaster.”  
  
“You don’t know. I think it could have worked out.” She wagged a finger at her. “Marriage is work. If you’re willing to put in the work-“  
  
“I don’t think I’ll be taking advice from you. My goal in life is sort of to avoid that.”  
  
“When I married your father he had never set foot in a bar.”  
  
“He was nineteen. Legally he couldn’t.”  
  
“So Clint, how much time have you spent in bars?”  
  
“I won’t say I’ve never been,” he responded. “But I avoid getting drunk like the plague. That’s how my father managed to do himself and my mother in.”  
  
“You poor baby,” Kathy cooed. “Who raised you?”  
  
“Group homes, mostly.”  
  
“Oh you poor dear.”  
  
“I…managed.” He looked sidelong at Laura who shrugged. “Learned to shoot in the deal which has served me well.”  
  
“You like your job then?”  
  
“Love it. I’ve never done anything that meant as much to me.”  
  
“How long have you two been together now?” Kathy asked.  
  
“What’s it been, nine months?” Clint asked.  
  
“Sounds right. Don’t look so excited, Mom,” Laura said to her mother whose face was lighting up. “It was pretty much informal anyway. With our schedules we’re lucky if we find time to go out once a month.”  
  
“Was informal?” she asked, licking marshmallow from her fingers. “So it’s not anymore?”  
  
“Stop. It.” Laura ordered.  
  
“I’m just wondering how long you have to be dating a man these days before I get to meet him,” she objected.  
  
“Uh huh,” Laura said, sounding anything but convinced. “I haven’t been dating hordes of men you haven’t met.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Clint said with a chuckle.  
  
“Like you haven’t been dating hordes of women,” Laura scoffed.  
  
“I haven’t!” he objected. “When would I have the time?”  
  
“Maybe I should ask your ex-wife.”  
  
“Below the belt,” he said.  
  
“Why did you get divorced?” Kathy asked.  
  
“It’s a REALLY long story,” Laura interrupted. “Involving a situation I will not ever find myself in.”  
  
“All right,” Kathy said. “Keep your secrets.”  
  
“Don’t think I won’t,” Laura said.  
  
“You looked like you were having fun playing with the boys,” Kathy said.  
  
“I was,” Clint agreed.  
  
“How do you feel about kids?”  
  
“MOTHER!” Laura burst. “WAY over the line.”  
  
Clint laughed. “It’s all right. I honestly just don’t think it’s in the cards for me. I mean I’d have no idea what to do with a baby. I haven’t exactly had a lot of great roll models in general. And I certainly don’t have the schedule that would be any use raising kids.” He paused to look around. “Although seeing all this, all these people gathered together in this place that has all this history for you, I can see the appeal.”  
  
“Don’t encourage her,” Laura whispered.  
  
“I think you’d make a great father,” Kathy practically cooed.  
  
Laura dropped her head into her hands. “Because you’ve known him for ten minutes?”  
  
“It’s called women’s intuition,” Kathy said. “Besides, you like him well enough. Seems like a good sign to me.”  
  
“It’s hard to argue with that,” Clint said, putting his arm around Laura to draw her close.  
  
She opened her mouth to answer but stopped when a woman on the other side of the fire raised her hands and clapped twice. She could have been an older version of Laura, long brown hair and slim figure.  
  
The others around the fire stopped speaking and turned to look at her. “As I went down to the river to pray,” she grinned as people whooped, her voice clear and even, “studyin’ about that good ol’ way. And who shall wear the starry crown? Oh Lord, show me the way.”  
  
Grinning, Laura stood on the next verse, adding her own voice, perfectly matched, “Oh, sisters let’s go down, let’s go down, come on down.” They walked slowly around the fire, staying opposite one another, voices creating a spooky stereo effect. “Oh sisters, let’s go down, down in the river to pray.” Laura stooped and lifted a girl of about four into her arms. More voices joined them this time, all female, as they sang, “As I went down in the river to pray, studying about that good old way, and who shall wear the robe and crown, Good Lord, show me the way.” He was pretty sure every woman there was singing by then. “Oh brothers let’s go down, let’s go down, come on down, come on brothers let’s go down, down in the river to pray.”  
  
This time the men joined as they sang, “As I went down in the river to pray, studyin’ about about that good ol’ way…“  
  
Clint watched as they all chorused together, singing over the crickets and the call of the frogs from the lake behind them. Even a hooting owl seemed more in tune with them than not.  
  
A few verses later the others started to drop out until it was only Laura and her companion singing, “Good Lord, show me the way.”  
  
The others hooted and clapped, laughing as the girls curtsied to one another across the fire.  
  
Laura made her way back to him as people started to trickle away. “Sorry, I should have warned you that was going to happen.”  
  
“That was….I don’t have words. I didn’t know you were so religious.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not,” she said, waving an insect away. “It’s rather Southern for my taste too. It’s more about tradition. My grandmother, it was her favorite song in the world. She would always sing it when we got together like this. Night of her funeral, we all sat around and just started singing it. She’s buried just over there,” she said, pointing up the road. “Little family cemetery just on the other side of those trees. Figure she’s still happy to hear it.”  
  
“That’s so sweet,” he said, hugging her close. “And your voice-“  
  
“Ah, my undercover specialty. Tavern wench with a voice could make birds weep. The boys all fall in line.”  
  
“Not something you usually have a problem with.” He watched the people disperse. “Is that the signal to go then?”  
  
“It is. Big day tomorrow. Got to get up early. Get the hair done all pretty. Pretend we have manners and all.”  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kathy said.  
  
“Night Mom,” she called.  
  
“Hm,” he said as they turned toward the house. “Sleeping in a real bed,” he sighed.  
  
“More than two feet wide. I might not have to sleep on top of you.”  
  
“I kind of like that part,” he said. “You stay close.”  
  
“Crickets outside the window. Frogs, I love that sound. Windows that let in an actual dawn. I can go for a nice run at sunrise. Heaven!”  
  
He couldn't help hearing the admiration in her voice. “You ever think of coming back here and settling?”  
  
“Maybe someday. Mostly just think if something happened and I couldn’t be an agent anymore.”  
  
“There’s always the therapy to fall back on. I know more than enough agents that could use it.”  
  
“I suppose. Dedicated line though, I could telecommute from out here.”  
  
“Sounds sorta nice.”  
  
“Only if I have a nice pile of manhood to hold onto,” she said, kissing him as she went.  
  
******  
  
He woke with the dawn, probably the unfamiliar light. Laura was curled comfortably around him, but his bladder was calling to him. He so seldom got more than four or five hours so it wasn’t used to holding so long, or so he told himself. He shifted her away and snuck off to the bathroom, came back to stand in the bay window, watching the sky pink up before him.  
  
The sound of a click made him turn. Laura was sitting up in the bed, digital camera in hand. “Now that’s a pretty picture,” she said.  
  
He opened his arms and she came to him. He turned her to look out the window. “That is,” he corrected. “Can you imagine waking up to this every day?”  
  
She laughed. “Go out and till the land? Mow the yard? You’d be bored stupid inside a week.”  
  
“I could do some fixing up. Porch could use some help. Sun room on the north side.”  
  
“Some secret longing to be a carpenter you’re harboring I don’t know about?”  
  
“There’s good money in cabinets as I understand it,” he said.  
  
She giggled, pulling away from him. “Want to join me for a run?”  
  
“Hell no. I’ll lift weights dawn to dusk but I’m not running a step unless I have to.”  
  
“I’ve seen you run. Fast as hell. Will 100 lbs of dead weight over your shoulder.”  
  
“Yeah, well, really fast when people are shooting at me.”  
  
“Well I’m going to go out and enjoy the morning before my cousin shoves me into a dress, screws bobby pins into my head, and paints me all over.  
  
He watched her dress and followed her downstairs. She poured a cup of coffee and sipped herself before she handed it to him. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she said with a peck on the cheek.  
  
He followed her out the door, sitting in the porch watching her jog down the track. He wouldn’t have pegged himself as the type to sit on the porch and watch the sun rise. He liked to be moving. Unless he was watching for a mark he normally couldn’t stand just sitting.  
  
But there was plenty to take in. The birds were singing to the sun as the farm was washed with the eerie green light of dawn and the sky was streaked pink. A gaggle of geese flew over, honking, disappearing over the tree line. Rabbits loped across the grass, picking at leaves here and there. A ground squirrel darted across the yard and up on top of the wood pile, its tail twitching.  
  
And then an antlered head emerged from the trees. It was so slow he almost missed it, and it was a good enough distance away anyone else probably would have too. It stayed stock still, only its eyelids moving as those huge black orbs took in every detail. Then it turned and did the same the other direction. It took one slow step forward and repeated the process. When it was about half way out of the tree line another head appeared, then another. As he stepped fully into the clearing more soft females followed, antler-less heads bending to pick at the grass, ears swiveling at the sounds around them.  
  
Suddenly a spotted fawn broke from the trees, kicking up its heals and running circles around the male deer. It didn’t even look down, just continued to walk. The females surrounded him and more fawns came to gamble around one another. He counted seven females and five fawns.  
  
“So Bambi decided to put on a show for you.” He turned to find Liz nursing a cup of coffee behind him. The deer's ears twitched but they continued to eat.  
  
“This is a common occurrence I presume?”  
  
“Pretty much every morning.” She nodded. “He has quite the herd. Most can’t handle more than five.”  
  
“The babies are adorable.”  
  
She smiled. “We’ve raised a few.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
She nodded. “It’s hard not to. You find them wandering around looking lost and calling for their mommy. They probably don’t do well when we get around to releasing them. They’re pretty friendly with us, and the farm dogs. Things they should be afraid of. But we do our best.”  
  
“Won’t you miss it when you move?”  
  
“I suppose I will. It’s always going to be here though. We can come visit.”  
  
“It’s a different kind of existence, that’s for sure,” he said.  
  
Liz sat next to him and they rocked on the swing gently in the silence. Time seemed to stretch until he completely lost track. It wasn’t until Laura came jogging back up the road (the deer scattered to huddle close to the tree line but they didn’t give up the field) that he realized his coffee was cold and the sun had fully risen.  
  
“Having fun?” she asked as she came close.  
  
“I am. I never-“ he gestured to the yard where the dew that had settled on the spider webs glinted in the sun. “I never realized a spider web could be so pretty. And look at all of them.”  
  
Laura smiled as she settled in his lap, an arm around his neck. “That’s what makes me believe in a higher power. I may not be overly religious but there’s no way it’s that pretty accidentally.” She shifted. “Also the duck-billed platypus. That animal is bass akwards. Whoever created this thing had one hell of a sense of humor.” She took in the view. “Always said I feel closer to God in a quiet place like this than a church filled to the rafters with people.”  
  
“Amen to that,” Liz said, raising her coffee cup.  
  
Suddenly there was a bang in the house and a moment of silence before the sudden screams of small children erupted through the screen door.  
  
“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” Liz sighed, getting up and going into the house. “What the hell is going ON in here?!?” her call reverberated back.  
  
Clint sighed, wrapping his arms around Laura and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I could stay right here forever.”  
  
“Me too.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, there’s a wedding to get to.”  
  
****  
  
In the weeks that followed Clint would think fondly of his time on the farm, but nothing compared to that quiet morning. While she had gone to get primped and ready he’d helped her mother set up and decorate for the reception. He’d gotten her off the topic of personal relationships and found that her humor really wasn’t that far from Laura’s. “The Allan girls’ humor” they called it (the matriarch’s maiden name was Allen) and when he met Kathy’s mother at the reception he had to agree. He took the ribbing and quickly discovered that by giving as good as he got they were all soon roaring with laughter.  
  
She’d been stunning walking down that aisle, hair all caught up with glittering (fake) diamonds in it. Even the bride had paled next to her, which he’d told her. She sang a song he didn’t know during the ceremony that took everyone’s breath away. He saw more than one man give him the evil eye when he pulled her into a hug in the reception line and gave her a kiss that made her cheeks glow. Not that he was doing so badly himself, judging by the twittering of the younger women (and the looks from some of the older).  
  
They danced most of the night. She’d been trained to dance of course, and so had he, but he was surprised when she easily followed his lead.  
  
Even that night, following her up the old country stairs to sit on the bed behind her and pull the bobby pins and plastic jewels from her hair while she leaned on his shoulder would become something of a treasured memory.  
  
It was nearly impossible to pull himself from the comfortable bed with her curled around him the next morning. All things packed up they slipped out into the early dawn with their bags, trying not to wake anyone, and he couldn’t help but stop to look at the vision before him. ‘Just one more day’ something in him begged and twisted.  
  
But he forced himself to follow Laura off the porch, heft the bags into the back of the rented F150 (“God I love this truck,” Laura kept saying), and climbed in next to her, eyes taking in every scrap of corn and green grass he could.


	13. New Information

“So how do you get a woman to marry you?”  
  
Bobbi turned to look at her ex-husband who was leaning against the wall looking at the street below them. “What?”  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
“That’s a dangerous question. Is there a reason you’re asking ME?”  
  
“You….I don’t know. You’re a woman, I think you’ll answer me honestly.”  
  
“I have agreed to marry you.”  
  
“There’s that.”  
  
“So this is for you? You’re not suggesting I should marry a woman?”  
  
“No, I just…well, I mean if you want….and most especially if I could….” Catching sight of the look on her face he put his head down. “Never mind.”  
  
“Clint Barton, are you planning to get married?”  
  
“No! No, I just…just thinking.”  
  
“Who is she?”  
  
“I just said, no one.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t I hear something about you with Laura?” She’d heard it from Laura, actually. A nervous do-you-mind? conversation that had ended with Bobbi hugging Laura and wishing her luck. Laura had said it wasn’t serious, but Clint was nothing if not unpredictable.  
  
He paused and blinked several time, licked his lips, then said, “Laura who?”  
  
Bobbi burst out laughing. “You’re the worst liar EVER. Do you know that?”  
  
“It’s been mentioned. I’ve been told it’s endearing.”  
  
“Especially to Laura Beddington?”  
  
“I haven’t decided anything. We’re not that serious. I don’t know if she even would consider getting married.”  
  
Bobbi tapped one of her weapons against her lips. “I think it’s on the someday list for her. I don’t know that she’s there yet.”  
  
“So when she is how would you do it?”  
  
“Well, there are a few things that always help.”  
  
He glanced at her. “Such as?”  
  
****************************************************  
  
Agent Coulson didn’t bother to look up when the knock sounded at his door. He just called, "Come."  
  
Clint Barton strode into the room, shutting the door and standing there fidgeting and staring into space. Coulson finished his paragraph, cleared his throat, and actually had to bark at Clint before he met his eyes. By that time Coulson was truly worried by his agent's behavior. Also, he realized Clint had closed the door behind himself. Clint seemed to think Coulson was less likely to yell with the door open. He wasn't but the archer seemed to make a habit of it all the same.  
  
"What’s the matter?" Coulson asked immediately.  
  
"Nothin," Clint said, but he continued to fidget, turning something (that Coulson automatically cataloged as not-gun-shaped) in his pocket. "I just have a favor to ask."  
  
He looked expectantly up at Clint, folding his hands before him. “Yes?”  
  
“Maybe…maybe this is a bad idea.”  
  
“Well, you could tell me and I could let you know,” he suggested after a moment of silence.  
  
Clint fished out the box, turning the blue-green covered black velvet case in his hand.  
  
Coulson raised his eyebrows. “Well Clint, I always knew we were close but I must say, this is unexpected.”  
  
He gave the agent a withering look, for once (perhaps the first time in history) not rising to the bait. “I just wanted to ask you to hold it for me.”  
  
Phil stood and walked around the desk, leaning against it to give Clint his space. “Are you afraid Laura’s going to go digging through your things and find it?”  
  
“I….” He paused. “Well I wasn’t until now!”  
  
“Then why do you want me to hold it?”  
  
“If something happens, if I don’t come back…”  
  
“I should sell it and buy a beach house in Tahiti?”  
  
Clint rolled his eyes. “I know how much you make.”  
  
“You do?”  
  
“Well, I know how much I make and I know you make more than that. Point is, you could buy a beach house in Tahiti without pawning my ring.” He shrugged. “If something were to happen to me, I would like someone to tell Laura. I would like her to know that I intended to…I just want her to know.”  
  
Phil smiled. “I’d be honored.” He took the box, pressing it into his pocket. “So how long am I keeping it?”  
  
“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought. I mean I need the perfect moment. To be honest I’m not even really decided. Don’t tell her that!”  
  
Phil laughed. “What’s the holdup?”  
  
“I don’t know. I just want to be sure. I’ve made enough bad decisions. I think I’m waiting for some final…sign.”  
  
“Buying a ring wasn’t that?”  
  
He shook his head. “That’s just preparation.”  
  
“She’s a heck of a woman,” Phil sighed. “And I think she’d be good for you.”  
  
“You don’t think I’d be good for her?”  
  
Phil shook his head. “Most days you aren’t even good for you.” But he smiled as he said it.  
  
“Thank you Sir. Am I dismissed?”  
  
“You have my leave, soldier,” Phil said with a wave.  
  
****************  
  
Even though he was walking down the corridor leading to the flight pad and knew he only had a few minutes, his heart skipped a beat when he heard Laura’s voice calling his name five weeks later.  
  
He turned with a grin and adjusted his bag, taking a step away from Coulson, expecting her to throw herself into his arms.  
  
Instead she stopped short in front of him and without a greeting said, “We need to talk.”  
  
“I can’t right now. I’m heading out,” Clint said.  
  
“Three minutes,” Coulson confirmed.  
  
“But really, we NEED to talk.”  
  
“Then call me,” he said. “I’ll be able to take calls in, what, fifteen minutes?” Coulson glanced at his watch and nodded.  
  
“It isn’t the sort of conversation you can have over the phone.”  
  
“Then it will have to wait until I get back.”  
  
“It’s time sensitive.”  
  
“Then you better hurry up and tell me.” He stood there, arms open, waiting while she glanced desperately around and ran a hand through her hair.  
  
“Clint, we have to go,” Coulson said.  
  
Clint nodded. “I’ll be back in week. We’ll talk then.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.  
  
“But-“  
  
“Otherwise call me.” With a smile and a nod he turned and walked toward the exit next to Coulson.  
  
Of course it hit him three steps later that she might have been trying to break up with him. His brain was still recovering from that tailspin when she desperately called, “Clint!” He turned with his heart in his throat. “I’m pregnant!”  
  
Every person in the hallways stopped dead and turned slowly to look at her. She wilted, shrugging helplessly and looking around in obvious exasperation.  
  
Clint turned to look at Coulson, eyes wide. “Go!” Coulson said, nodding toward her. “Just make it quick.”  
  
He dropped his bag and hurried back to her. “Sorry,” she said. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know what else…” She threw up her hands.  
  
In standard Clint fashion he said the worst thing anyone could in that situation. “Is it mine?” Her eyes widened. “I mean, are you sure…” He stopped as her hands balled into fists.  
  
“Screw you, Barton,” she responded. “Screw you very much.”  
  
She turned on her heal, marching down the hall.  
  
“No, Laura, wait.” He chased after her. “I’m sorry. I was thinking under cover or-“  
  
“I haven’t been undercover since the seizures started,” she bit out at him. “You know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” She never even slowed, long legs eating up the distance.  
  
“You’ll take care of it?” he repeated, scrambling to follow. “What does that mean?”  
  
“I don’t know. But whatever I decide I will take care of it. You won’t have to lift a finger.”  
  
“I don’t want that.” He raced in front of her, grabbing her arms. “I grew up bouncing place to place without knowing who I was. I don’t want any kid of mine out there without a father. Not while I could be there.”  
  
“Well I can guess what your answer would be,” she snarled.  
  
“Don’t be so sure,” he said, shaking her a bit. “I’ve never…when I said I didn’t believe this was in the cards for me I meant it. But maybe…maybe this is my one chance and I’m not in a big hurry to throw it away.” She blinked and looked away. “This is kind of sudden. Just, promise we can talk about this, okay? Promise you won’t do anything permanent until we’ve had a chance to talk. Please?”  
  
“Just so you don’t put me off until it’s too late.”  
  
“I won’t. I’ll put in for leave if I have to.” He pulled her close to hug her, relieved to find her arms around him.  
  
“Okay,” she whispered.  
  
“Okay.” He looked down at her. “We’ll figure this out, Laura, I promise.”  
  
Of course he had no idea how, but that was usually the case when he said things like that anyway.  
  
He hurried back down the hall, jumping on to the plane and signaling the pilot for takeoff. “You got this figured out?” Coulson asked.  
  
“I honestly don’t know,” Clint said. “I guess time will tell.”  
  
“She’s a good agent.” Clint nodded. “So are you.” He paused, then nodded again.


	14. Decision

Laura’s heart beat faster as she neared the farm. Liz’s phone call had put her on edge but she hadn’t really allowed the panic to overwhelm her until now. Despite Liz’s assurances that everything was fine she was adamant that they needed to talk in person and that just couldn’t bode well. Especially when Laura saying things were busy there and it wouldn’t be easy to get away (okay, actually she was just waiting for Clint to get back but she did need to talk to him) did not dissuade her.  
  
Her first thought was then she knew about the baby, but she couldn’t puzzle out how that was possible. Certainly the gossip vine in SHIELD was buzzing but if Liz had a mole there would have been many more uncomfortable conversations when she nearly got herself killed. She couldn’t imagine Clint reaching out to tell her. Unless he thought Liz could talk her into keeping it, but if he thought going behind her back to her family was the way to get her to do anything he had another thing coming.  
  
She suspiciously eyed the sleek sports car in the driveway as she pulled up. Liz would never own such a thing and she’d string up her husband if he even thought about it. Low to the ground with wheels designed for speed those vehicles were little more than sleds even on concrete in the Midwest once the three solid months of snow and ice started. To say nothing of trying to fit her kids into a vehicle that wasn’t exactly designed with safety as the main concern.  
  
A doctor? Laura may have said everything was fine but she still Liz would be this insistent if she’d been handed anything less than a death sentence. Or a lawyer? Was there money trouble? If there was Laura could certainly help. SHIELD paid well, supplied room and board, and ate up enough of her life that she didn’t have time to spend it on toys.  
  
She let the screen door slam behind her, the universal ‘I’m home’ in this clan. When Liz didn’t call she started going room-to-room. “Liz?”  
  
“Laura.”  
  
She turned. Clint Barton was standing on the stairs in front of the door, shoulders straightening, stepping fully into the foyer but stopping there, eyes flicking around the space. “Clint?”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“What the hell are you doing here? I’ve been waiting for you at the base.”  
  
“I know. I wanted to talk to you here.”  
  
“You had Liz call me?” He nodded. “Does she know…everything?”  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, okay. Why did you want to talk to me here?”  
  
“Come out onto the porch,” he suggested.  
  
“Do you anticipate yelling?” she asked. “Or do you want to get me away from potential projectiles?”  
  
He smiled. “We’ll see.”  
  
His movements as he led her out to the porch were uncharacteristically stiff. He held open the door for her and she thought she detected a tremor in his hands as he guided her to sit on the porch swing. She watched him pace, shaking her head. “Really, Clint, out with it already.”  
  
“Okay.” He stopped, shaking out his arms. “Okay, so...” He sighed, then dropped clumsily to one knee before her, digging in his pocket. “I tried to ask Richard what you would like. And I had a woman’s opinion. They said it wouldn’t really matter if it came in this.” He pulled a green-blue Tiffany box from his pocket, tied with a white ribbon.  
  
“Clint-“ He looked up at her, eyes like a puppy waiting to be hit. “I don’t care what kind of box it’s in.”  
  
“Well, I’ve been told it makes a difference so…”  
  
“You didn’t have to spend extra just for the name.”  
  
“I have the money, Laura. I’d rather spend it on something important.” He finally pulled out the black ring box and flipped it open. “Agent Laura Beddington, would you marry me?”  
  
“Clint, it’s beautiful.” She picked it up to look at the white gold ring on the black velvet. The center stone was large, surrounded by a circle of small pinkish stones, surrounded by a circle of small diamonds. She burst out laughing. “Did you get this one because it looks like a bullseye?”  
  
“You don’t like it?” There was that whipped puppy look again.  
  
“I love it,” she said. “It looks like you.”  
  
He waited a moment, then pointed out, “You aren’t saying yes.”  
  
“Clint,” she sighed, lowering the ring although her thumb still caressed it. “Does this ring come with conditions?”  
  
He blinked at her. “Like what?”  
  
“Like that I keep this baby? That I quit SHIELD?”  
  
“No.” He didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Even if you decide you don’t want the baby, this stands. It’s your body, I’d never tell you what to do with it. And if you keep the kid and want to keep working, we both make good money. We could hire a nanny. Or two. Or whatever parents do when they can’t be around.”  
  
She blinked hard as she looked away, sighed heavily. “Clint, do you believe in fate?”  
  
“Only so far as it likes to bite me in the ass.”  
  
She laughed. “Well you may want to change your mind now.” She took his hand. “I had another seizure last week.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“So it’s been six months. I’ve officially been taken off the active duty list permanently. My brain isn’t going to heal itself. This condition is chronic.”  
  
Clint gripped her hand tightly. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
“They aren’t done trying to find medication that will help but whatever I end up on will have to be taken on a very ridged schedule. I can’t miss a dose, even only for a few hours. And more than likely I’ll still have these episodes. They can’t have someone like that undercover and in war zones.” She cleared her throat and shifted. “Incidentally, that’s how the baby happened. Turned out the meds they had me on counteracted the birth control. Which no one bothered to warn me about.” She shrugged. “If you believe in something bigger it seems like someone might be trying to tell me something.”  
  
“You could still do counseling for SHIELD. You have a Masters and PhD. Fury isn’t going to want to let you go. There are plenty of people there that could be in the field.”  
  
“Sure,” she agreed. “But with a dedicated internet line I could do that from anywhere. Telecommute or whatever.”  
  
“So…you would consider it? You would think about quitting SHIELD and staying home for the kids?”  
  
She smiled at him. “Kids? Plural?”  
  
“Well, doesn’t seem like one would really keep you busy. You need more of a challenge.”  
  
She laughed. “Would you like that Mr. Barton? Have me far far away on a farmstead with a bunch of your babies underfoot?”  
  
“I don’t know about the far far away part. I mean, this would be the perfect place for you, obviously. It would be a dream to have a place like that to come home to.” He gave her a tentative glance. “Liz did know I wanted to ask you to marry me. I told her I might be interested in buying this place off of her. For you, of course. If they could find another place for the crack heads. She seemed pretty enthusiastic at the idea of getting some money out of the place.”  
  
“I bet.” She grinned down at him.  
  
“Okay, now you’re just torturing me. Is that a yes?”  
  
She laughed, but she was nodding. “Yes. Yes, Clint Barton, I will marry you.”  
  
He grinned, jumping to his feet and pulling her close to kiss her. “When?” he asked.  
  
“Well it will have to be soon before I’m all fat and disgusting.”  
  
“Say the word, we’ll head back to the carrier and I’ll get Fury to do the honors.”  
  
She laughed. “Well I wouldn’t object to Fury doing the honors, but my mother would never let us hear the end of it if we didn’t do something a little more formal that she could attend. And if I’m going to be living this close to her, she’s going to have a lot of opportunities to remind me.”  
  
“Well then, how quickly can you pull together a wedding?”  
  
***********************  
  
They were comfortably wrapped up together on the porch swing when the black SUV turned up the drive. “Uh-oh,” Laura sighed as they got closer.  
  
“What?”  
  
“My mother is in the car.”  
  
“Is that a problem?”  
  
“Not really. She’d pitch an absolute fit if she wasn’t told right away.”  
  
“She’ll be happy, won’t she?” he asked, eyeing the car.  
  
“Over the moon,” Laura sighed. “Really enthusiastically, exhaustively over the moon.”  
  
“I’ll drag you away. Say I need you by myself for a bit,” he promised, kissing her cheek as Liz and Kathy came up the walk.  
  
“Brought her huh?” Laura asked Liz as they came up the steps.  
  
Liz’s eyes immediately tracked to the ring finger on Laura’s left hand, although the grin on Clint’s face couldn’t have been a bigger hint. “Thought you might have something to show her.”  
  
“And so I do.” Laura raised her hand, waggling her ring finger at her.  
  
Kathy gasped. Her mouth actually worked for a moment before a high pitched scream that made Laura wince emerged. She rushed over and pulled her daughter to her feet, hugging her. When she finally let go she turned to Clint with tears in her eyes. “Come here,” she ordered, opening her arms and pulling him close. He laughed as he stooped to wrap his arms around her. “Bless you,” she whispered to him, kissing his cheek. “How did you ever talk her into it?”  
  
His eyes went to Laura who sighed hugely and shrugged. “May as well get it all out in the open now.”  
  
“I may have-inadvertently of course-knocked her up.”  
  
“What?” Kathy’s eyes went to Laura, who shrugged. “What?!? I’m going to be a grandma?!?”  
  
Now she was crying for sure, rushing over to wrap her arms around Laura again. She pulled back suddenly. “You can’t keep working that job.”  
  
“I’m off active duty,” she assured her mother. “I can still do psychotherapy. But for now it sounds like I’m going to try telecommuting in and living here.”  
  
“Here-here?” she asked.  
  
“This very house, if Liz’s willing to give it up.”  
  
“If your fiancé is still willing to pay me,” Liz joked.  
  
“Glad to pay you,” Clint said.  
  
Kathy shook her head. “I think I need to sit down.” Clint obligingly helped her to the swing, sitting next to her when she refused to relinquish his arm. “So when is the wedding?”  
  
“Soon,” Laura said. “ASAP. As far as I’m concerned we could do it this weekend.”  
  
“Laura!” she cried out. “There are a million things to do.”  
  
“No,” Laura said firmly. “This is not going to be a big production. It’s going to be small. Very, very small.”  
  
“You don’t have to be ashamed-“  
  
“I’m NOT ashamed,” she growled. “I just don’t want to make a big deal. Clint doesn’t even have any family to come. I’m sure we can manage it.”  
  
“Who will be your best man?” she asked Clint.  
  
He looked at Laura a bit like a deer in the headlights. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Phil maybe,” Laura suggested.  
  
“That’s an idea.”  
  
“And a dress. I mean just getting it altered will take weeks.”  
  
“I’m sure we can find something,” Laura said.  
  
“Where are you going to have it?”  
  
Laura glanced around. “Actually I’m thinking here. Put some chairs on the green, do it on the porch steps.”  
  
“It could be beautiful,” Liz said.  
  
“Where would you walk from that he couldn’t see you?” Kathy demanded.  
  
“The barn I guess. Or just around the house.”  
  
“You can’t come out of the BARN.”  
  
“Sure I can. Clint won’t complain about a little hay, will you Clint?”  
  
“No ma’am,” he said agreeably.  
  
“You’re not going to be any help to me are you?” Kathy asked Clint.  
  
“I’ve been told all the groom has to do is show up. I’m all for that,” Clint said. “My new favorite phrase is going to be, ‘Whatever she wants.’”  
  
“Oh, you are so perfect for her,” Liz laughed.


	15. Wedding

Clint’s apathy got him out of most of the rest of the wedding mess, which was good. Mostly he saw a lot of Laura screaming on the phone to her mother. “100 guests maximum. No, I will be the one making the guest list.” “You can’t make great-aunt Loreen make lasagna for 100 people. Because she’s 98!” “I absolutely refuse to pay $300 for a cake. I don’t care what kind of frosting it has. Yes, I have tasted butter cream.” There was one memorable occasion where Laura suggested they do a bon fire for the reception and screaming from her mother went on so long she put the phone down and walked away.  
  
Clint did have to ask Coulson to be his best man, but when the agent hemmed and hawed Laura jumped in to point out that they never would have met if it weren’t for Coulson, and if he hadn’t put Clint on the detail to rescue her (and you knew perfectly well he would run in there) she probably would be dead. He had blushed (Clint wasn’t sure he had ever seen the man blush, and he’d put some effort into the attempt) and agreed.  
  
So Clint found himself, five weeks later, stowed in the den with every shade and curtain drawn with strict orders NOT to peak as his wife and her gaggle pushed their way outside to get into place, playing poker calmly with Coulson.  
  
“Nervous?” Coulson, who had nearly given Kathy a heart attack by rushing in less than an hour ago with his tux in hand, asked.  
  
“Nah, at the most you have two pair.”  
  
Coulson rolled his eyes. “The wedding.”  
  
“Oh. No.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Really. All I have to do is stand there.”  
  
“This whole thing has been a little…sudden.”  
  
Clint sighed and shrugged. “I guess I’m used to that. Roll with the punches. Change the plan when circumstances get shot to hell.”  
  
He shook his head. “You’re a braver man than I, Clint Barton.”  
  
“Or just too stupid to be scared.”  
  
“You’re a lot of things, Clint. Someday you’re going to be convinced that stupid isn’t one of them.”  
  
“I’m just hoping this is my luck is turning around. I couldn’t believe anyone could get this lucky, let alone me.”  
  
“You think she’s going to take to this? Being home all the time?”  
  
“I really don’t know. I’m getting the better part of the deal for sure. Nothing changes at work and the rest of the time I get this weird pastoral slice of heaven to come home to. Me. Who has never even really had a home.”  
  
“Maybe you’re due then,” Coulson suggested.  
  
“Maybe. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”  
  
“Don’t spend so much time looking for it that you don’t get to enjoy what you have,” Coulson said.  
  
“I know.”  
  
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Liz’s husband opened it, sticking his head in. “The girls are in place. I’ve been sent to fetch you.”  
  
“Let’s do this thing,” Clint said cheerily, standing to button his tux and following the man out to the porch.  
  
He stood on the top step, only the pastor (from the local church, Kathy had absolutely INSISTED) above him on the porch. He fiddled with his cuff links (borrowed from Coulson) and checked to make sure his boutonniere was straight (lovingly place by Liz so of course it was perfect). He very carefully did not reach up to make sure his hair was in place (freshly clipped by Kathy the night before-she would probably run up the steps and smack his hand away from her row in the first seat). He carefully did not look toward the barn or around the house to catch a glimpse of Laura. He wanted his first sight of her to be the whole picture.  
  
He shouldn’t have worried. First two little girls with baskets sprinkled rose petals down the aisle. Then the parade of bridesmaids. Liz, in the lead, walked with Coulson as the maid of honor the rest of the groomsmen escorted the girls down the aisle (Kathy had wanted all 8 ‘cousins’ who had put Laura in their weddings, Laura had wanted 2, the final count seemed to be five).  
  
Finally the pastor motioned everyone to stand and there was Laura.  
  
She looked magnificent. She had asked him once if he had a preference on her dress. He said he really didn’t but if she REALLY wanted his opinion, he would have her do something simple. She was gorgeous on her own, there was no reason to hide under a bunch of fluff.  
  
It seemed she had taken his advice.  
  
She positively glowed in white satin, halter top accentuating her curves. A black sash with white embroidery ran around her still-slim waist (“Are you sure she’s pregnant?” Aunt Loreen’s raspy scream that passed for a whisper to her hearing-aided husband made everyone giggle.) It flowed all the way to the floor, forming a small train behind her.  
  
Her hair was caught half up, uncharacteristically curling down her back, with a tiger lily caught where it was gathered. The bouquet of them screamed with color (Kathy had hated the idea-it’s a weed, it’s ugly, it’s so ORANGE-Laura had ended the argument with a firm, “It’s very me.” Clint couldn’t help but agree, it suited her).  
  
Coulson scowled next to him. “I’m pretty sure that’s copyright infringement.”  
  
“What?” Clint asked.  
  
“The sash.” Clint looked at it blankly. Coulson shook his head. “That’s the SHIELD logo.”  
  
Clint blinked again, and nearly burst out laughing when he recognized the circles and stark lines that made up the avian logo. She grinned at him, sharing the joke and he shook his head back at her as Roger walked her toward them. “Well if anyone has a right to it it’s us,” Clint whispered back.  
  
“I’d say Fury would first.”  
  
Clint snorted. “The day he gets married we can discuss it.”  
  
He grinned as he walked down the steps to take her hand and steady her up (they were peeling paint and one was leaning, the first thing when the moved in he was redoing them). “You look beautiful,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek.  
  
“You don’t look so bad yourself there handsome,” she said.  
  
Clint tried to listen to the drone of the pastor but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When she turned to hand her bouquet to Liz he caught sight of the full SHIELD insignia right where the sash crossed at the small of her back before returning the more abstract design. He knew it looked like he was staring blatantly at her backside (to be fair he was only doing that about half the time) but it really was distracting. She turned, catching his eye and shaking her head at him minutely although the broad grin on her face said she knew exactly what she was doing.  
  
Finally she raised her hand, flashing a signal only he and the pastor could see behind the her back, telling him to pay attention.  
  
He turned to the pastor just in time to hear him say, “The bride and groom have prepared their own vows. I believe the groom will go first.”  
  
He gave her a crooked smile before he turned to the gathered crowd. “You know, I was a little surprised when she agreed to marry me.” Laura, along with the crowd laughed. “I don’t think there’s any doubt that I’m getting the better part of this deal. And not just for the obvious reason,” he added with a motion toward her. The crowd laughed again. “I’m not just getting a wife here. I’m getting an entire family.” He looked them over. “A really big, extended family.” They laughed again. “Kathy has made it more than apparent that she’s taking me in, and I can’t tell you what that means to me. If you don’t know, I was orphaned. I grew up in group homes and got passed around a lot. I have a brother but family…isn’t something I’m accustomed to. It’s not something I ever really thought I would have. Neither is this home, this whole life Laura is building for me. It’s a bit overwhelming sometimes but it is so worth it. And I am going to spend every moment I can trying to be worthy of it.” He looked back at Laura. “Trying to be the man she seems to think I am.”  
  
She took his hand. “That I know you already are,” she corrected, squeezing his hand.  
  
“So, for the very last time I can call you this, Ms. Beddington, if you would like to present your vow,” the pastor said.  
  
Laura grinned up at him. “So the last time we met before embarking on this relationship adventure we’ve developed, I was a total mess.” The crowd twittered. “No, really. I can tell you, now that I’m not on active duty and my mother isn’t likely to tie me up to keep me safe, that a mission had gone wrong. I’d been captured, been in their care for a while, and was a little worse for wear. Clint was supposed to be backup. He was just supposed to stay in the brush and keep the team coming to get me from being ambushed.” She heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately the team couldn’t get through. The mission was scrapped, Clint was ordered back. But he knew given the timeline I didn’t have much time left. So without backup, without the 10-man team that was SUPPOSED to be doing this, he rushed in there. And he found me a complete mess. I was bruised, and beaten, and burned. Shaved head, eye swollen shut, both my feet broken. If he were smart he would have turned around and gotten his ass out of there.”  
  
“Never been accused of that,” Clint remarked.  
  
“But he didn’t. He threw me over his shoulder and ran out of there. I don’t remember a lot of it, which is probably for the better, but I don’t have to in order to tell you he was remarkable. He went to ground in the woods, wrapped his coat around me, let me put a gun to his head to prove he was one of us. He did a little scouting and then risked his life again by settling in to keep me warm and give me whatever medical aid he could until they picked us up. I have no doubt he saved my life that night. It only seems fair I give what I can in return.  
  
“And I feel the hand of fate here. It isn’t a coincidence, me being pulled off active duty, the baby, this house. I’m not going to argue against that. I’ve been saying for a long time that this life wasn’t for me. I’m thankful I get to finally try it out.” She squeezed his hand again. “Thank you.”  
  
With a smile she nodded at the pastor.  
  
“All right. On to the official vows. Do you, Laura, promise to take this man, to love, honor, and obey him, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”  
  
Laura, blinked at him. “Uh, no.”  
  
He paused. “What?”  
  
She turned to a stunned Clint. “I promise to honor you, and love you, but there’s a snowball’s chance in hell I’m going to obey you. I mean, let’s be realistic here.”  
  
Clint blinked at her a few times, then looked at the pastor, then looked back at her and burst into laughter at the same moment she cracked up. The crowd behind them followed and finally even the pastor was laughing.  
  
“All right, that one’s on me. I usually ask if you want that in there. Then do you, Laura, promise to love, honor, and cherish this man, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”  
  
“That, I do,” she said.  
  
“Glad to hear it,” the pastor laughed. “Then do you, Clint, promise to love, honor, and cherish this woman, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”  
  
“Hell, I’ll promise to obey her if you want to throw that in,” he said.  
  
“I’ll let you two work that one out,” the pastor laughed.  
  
“I do,” Clint said.  
  
“All right then. I am very happy to pronounce you two husband and wife. You may kiss each other.”  
  
Laura moved in for a quick peck and tried to pull away but he grabbed her and pulled her closer and kissed her properly while the crowd behind them whooped.  
  
She pulled back, shaking her head at him. “Two can play at that game, sweet cheeks,” she said, turning to descend the steps, slapping his butt on the way.  
  
“Oh, that’s how it is huh?” he asked, turning after her. Stooping he swept her over his shoulder.  
  
She let out one shriek that dissolved into laughter as he carried her down the aisle, the crowd clapping and laughing behind her.  
  
The result would be a picture that would always hold a treasured place on the mantle no matter how many baby photos and family gatherings crowded in. Laura, bouquet in one hand, other elbow braced on Clint’s back, hand tucked under her chin with a coy smile as if this was her preferred mode of transportation, Clint grinning over his shoulder behind her, their friends and family laughing and clapping around them.  
  
*******************************************************************************************************  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Clint looked down at his wife of eight hours. The firelight reflected in the glitter Liz’s four-year-old had insisted she needed in place of a veil. “What is what?”  
  
She reached out to squeeze the arm wrapped around her. “You’re all tense. Not that I mind my big strong husband flexing for me but the idea of a honeymoon is relaxation.”  
  
He sighed. “Can’t get anything by you can I?”  
  
“May as well get used to it now.”  
  
“I was just wondering if you had any regrets.”  
  
She paused. “Why? Is this your slick way of telling me you do?”  
  
“Me?” He blinked at the sudden right turn. “No, not me. I just…it’s not the stuff girls dream of is it? Planning a wedding in under a month because you’re in a rough place, being an agent who’s traveled the world over and honeymooning some friend’s little cabin on a lake thirty miles from the ceremony.” He rested his head on her shoulder. “Feels like I could have done better, should have done better for you.”  
  
She shook her head. “Listen, if it should have been done better it’s my own doing. I chose this. We could have put the wedding off, I didn’t want to. Because I knew I could make it exactly what I wanted.” She turned to look him in the eye. “I’m not the sort of girl that dreamed about the princess wedding and had it all planned out. I WANTED it to be small. I wanted it to be simple, and relaxed.” She threaded her fingers through his. “I wanted someone who wanted simple and relaxed too. Who wouldn’t get all wound up and bent out of shape. Who could just go with the flow. And I love this cabin. It’s beautiful here. Really if there was any privacy there and the whole clan wasn’t staying over I’d have stayed at the house.” She looked over the flames to the lake spread before them. “I have been all over the world and I can’t think of any view to rival this.”  
  
He looked out. “It is pretty. Hawaii was nice though.”  
  
“Hawaii?” she repeated. “How did you end up in Hawaii? Why do I always end up on the mission chasing the Hydra agents across frozen Alaska and NEVER end up in Hawaii?”  
  
“They had a base in a volcano. Something about using the heat for energy production. The actual mission wasn’t that fun but Coulson got us some down time before we shipped out.”  
  
“I knew I should have been nicer to that man.”  
  
He laughed. “I don’t know. He likes you.”  
  
“Wonder how I managed that.”  
  
“You’re capable,” he said. “He likes capable people. That don’t whine.” He looked down at her. “So really, no regrets? Not one?”  
  
She paused to consider. “Can’t think of any. I may not whine but I’m not really the sort to keep quiet if I don’t like something. If it matters, you’re going to know about it.”


	16. Cooper Philip Barton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies all around. I got distracted by real life and some other projects. Still plan on finishing this though. Big thanks to everyone hanging in with me.

Clint had barely gotten out, “Mission complete,” and turned to pack up his bow when the telltale wind of an aircraft made him turn. He instinctively grabbed for one of his anti-aircraft arrows and spun, finding himself aiming square center on the white SHIELD logo of a jet landing on the rooftop. The door popped and Coulson leaned out to motion him over.

He stowed the arrow and grabbed the case for his bow, hurrying to the plane. “What happened?” he asked, climbing aboard. “Cover blown? Enemy aircraft coming in? This isn’t exactly subtle.”

Coulson shook his head and leaned close. “It’s Laura.”

“Laura?” he repeated.

“Went into labor almost five hours ago.” He slammed the door.

Clint stood, dumbfounded. “But she isn’t due for another three weeks,” he said too loudly into the sudden silence.

“You can take that up with your son when he arrives,” Coulson said. “I would have radioed you but she insisted I not interrupt the op. We should be able to get you there within the half hour.”

“How is she?” Clint asked.

“Well, she wasn’t her usual flowery self, I can tell you that. She got downright sharp with me. You’d think she was your handler now.”

Clint smirked. “She’s taking that offer to obey to heart. I’m sort of hoping it’s just the hormones.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Coulson said.

It didn’t stop the agent from ordering the jet to land on the helicopter pad that was supposed to be reserved for the hospital helicopter. It sounded like the pilot was getting an earful from the hospital but Clint didn’t hang around to find out. Coulson disembarked right behind him and followed him into the hospital.

He must have looked up the layout on the way in because Agent Coulson took the lead and walked straight to the intake desk of the maternity ward.

The nurses whisked him back, pressing a surgical gown over his Kevlar vest and tying him into it as another pressed a cap over his sweat-streaked hair. He wondered if Laura had warned them because they didn’t make a single comment as they hurried him further through the maze of hallways.

He had expected to hear screaming, so he was surprised when they turned a corner and he was presented with Laura laid out on a bed before him.

She looked so much like the time he had been sent in to pull her out captivity that it rattled him into stopping dead in his tracks.

Her hair had gotten longer in the six weeks since he’d last seen her bustling around the farm house to return to work. But now it was plastered to her head. She was pale, laying limply in the bed, sweat pooling around her. Eyes heavily lidded, she looked barely conscious.

Her mother, standing behind her holding the hand that didn't have IV lines hanging heavily out of it, attired in the same outer garb he now wore, smiled warmly at him, which put some of his fears aside. "There he is," she leaned down to whisper in her daughter's ear.

Laura's eyes opened and she actually managed a weak smile.

“Well Mr. Barton, I’m glad you made it in time to join the party,” the doctor he vaguely recognized from the appointment greeted him. “Your wife has been moving things right along.”

“That sounds like her,” he said, taking her hand when she reached for him, mindful of the IV lines now.

"Did you finish the mission?" she asked. "I told Coulson not to pull you away."

"Yes, although he practically landed the jet on top of me the moment it was done."

She smiled weakly. "Good boy." Suddenly her face contorted and she squeezed his hand hard, a low keening coming from the back of her throat.

Clint spent another three hours watching anxiously as Laura sweated and groaned, letting her wring his hand. He could see why they called it labor now. He had to fight the urge to go into a full-fledged panic. He wasn't good at watching, especially watching people he cared about in pain. He wanted to do something. At one point he found himself snapping at the doctor, "Can't you do anything to move this along?"

"They take their own time," the doctor said with a chuckle. "I'd suggest you get used to it. Once he's here you're going to be running on the little guy's schedule for a while."

He was surprised to find the most calming influence in the room belonged to Kathy. Having filled in for him he wasn't about to kick Laura's mother out of the room, and she was uncharacteristically calm. Given her near hysteria when Laura spoke about medical consequences of their work he would have expected Kathy to be in a positive panic. Instead she calmly rubbed Laura's shoulders, helped her breath, and offered her soothing words. "I don't know how you can be so collected," Clint said in between contractions as Laura leaned forward to let her mother rub her back.

She smiled at him. "You poor thing, you're not usually such a ball of nerves are you?"

"Wouldn't be a very attractive trait in a sniper," Laura commented.

She smiled. "This is familiar," Kathy said with a shrug. "I've been here, I know how it works." She shared a smile with Laura when the man turned away to pace around the small room.

Finally the doctor disappeared under the sheet draped over Laura's legs and said, "Well, looks like this one is finally ready to come out. What do you think Mrs. Barton, ready to meet your son?"

"Please!" Laura growled.

"Okay then. Big push." He paused, then looked back up. "All right, that's the head. One more should do it."

He disappeared again, and suddenly a startlingly loud cry split the air. Nurses rushed in with blankets, and a bloody bundle trailing a cord was placed on Laura's chest.

Clint looked down at red squalling infant. He had dark hair plastered to his head and his little hands were clenched into fists that waved in the air, his eyes were scrunched shut as he screamed his rage at being thrust into a cold, bright world.

"Hey, hey," Laura soothed, running fingers over his cheek. "Hey there, it's okay."

At the sound of her voice the noise cut off. Blue eyes opened and looked up into her face. "Hello there little boy," she cooed at him.

"He knows Mommy's voice," one of the nurses observed.

Laura smiled at the baby, then looked up at Clint. "What do you think?"

Clint blinked at the creature, no idea what the correct answer was. "He's so little," was all he could think to say. "Is he supposed to be that little? Is it because he's so early?"

The nurse shook her head. "He's good sized." She grinned up at Clint. "That's probably how you started out."

He shook his head in wonder, reaching toward the tiny creature whose eyes were still glued on his mother's face. He reverently touched the tiny fingers and the hand opened, then wrapped around his finger. "He's so strong."

"Going to be a heck of an archer, are you?" Laura teased the baby. "Just like Daddy."

Clint shook his head. "He's so perfect. You sure I really had anything to do with it?"

Laura laughed. "Pretty sure."

"Hey Dad, want to cut the cord?" the doctor offered, holding the scissors out to him.

Clint dutifully moved to sever the last link between the infant and his wife.

One of the nurses leaned forward. "Can I take him for a minute? Get a weight and length and clean him up some? I'll bring him right back."

Laura reluctantly gave up the baby, who began to scream when removed from his mother. The nurse cooed at him as the doctor stretched. "Well, I haven't eaten anything in about eight hours. I’ll leave the nurses to finish up. I'll be back to see him in a little bit."

"Sure," Laura said distractedly, eyes on the nurse and her baby.

“I think I’m with the doctor,” Kathy said, trailing out to leave the parents with new baby.

By the time Kathy was allowed back to the room Clint was sitting next to Laura's bed with the baby in his arms. Both the child, one hand still resolutely wrapped around his father's finger, and his mother had heavy eyes that kept trying to slip shut.

Kathy stuck her head around the door to take in the scene with a quiet, "Hey."

Laura stirred to give her a smile. "Hey Mom."

"Are you up for visitors? I found someone else waiting in the reception area."

Clint and Laura traded confused looks but Laura shrugged. "Sure."

She came into the room, Phil Coulson striding in behind her. "I'm sorry," he began apologizing immediately. "I really just wanted to make sure everything was okay, I don't want to bother you."

"Not at all." Laura scooted further up in the bed. "Come in Phil."

"He kept trying to tell me to give Clint a message but I insisted he come," Kathy said, leaning over to study the baby whose eyes had fallen resolutely shut despite the strangers around him.

"I just wanted to tell you I've cleared your schedule," Phil assured Clint. "You've got four weeks paternity leave and a few months of vacation saved up so don't be in a hurry to get back."

"You're the best," Laura said. "Why don't you hold him for a minute?"

"That's really not necessary," he insisted, but Clint was already up, trying awkwardly to transfer the bundle into his arms.

Laughing Laura waved them closer and gently arranged his arms so Coulson had a good hold on the newborn. "Agent Coulson, we would like to officially introduce you to Cooper Philip Barton."

Phil froze. "Do you have an....uncle or something...."

"Nope," Clint said. Coulson turned to look at him. "It was her idea. She insisted in fact."

"How many times have you saved both our asses? So he wouldn't be here if it weren’t for his Uncle Phil. And I know you're never going to admit it but when you put Clint out there as backup after my capture you knew he'd run in if the team couldn't make it. I owe you my life and I don't take that lightly. Seems like a middle name is the least we could do."

Coulson blinked between the two of them owlishly. "Just say thank you," Clint finally suggested.

"Yes," he said. "I mean, wow. Thank you." He looked down at the sleeping child. "Cooper Philip."

"Being a Barton man he's bound to give me trouble," Laura chuckled. "May as well try to smooth it out by naming him after the most low-key guy I've ever met."

"I appreciate it," he said. "But I really do have to go."

"Me," Kathy said immediately. "Grandma hasn't held him yet, let me."

Laura chuckled as Kathy hustled over to remove the baby. "Thank you for waiting Phil."

"No problem. I'll be in touch," he assured them as he edged toward the door.


	17. Why does it never go smooth?

The afterglow was great. He spent three days at home helping out. Midnight feedings and Laura laughingly teaching him how to change diapers. Which he of course took as a challenge and started timing himself, trying to beat his records.

But then Coulson called, apologizing all over and he was desperate for his skill set. And then the mission ran long and when he came home two weeks later things were very different.

Laura was a little OCD about cleaning. He didn’t mind, given that he wasn’t. Her following him around cleaning up after him was cute.

He returned to a total disaster. The moment he opened the door the scent of sour milk and soiled diapers met his nose. Dirty baby clothes were everywhere. Laura was asleep on the couch with the baby on her chest. Her prized afghan a coworker crocheted for her graduation was covered in…crusty stuff. Her hair was a greasy mess. She looked like she hadn’t bathed in a week. Or changed her bright orange t-shirt (she hated bright colors, she apparently hadn’t done laundry since he left).

“Honey?” he said, smoothing her hair back.

Her eyes opened, and she actually leveled herself off the couch with a sob. He wrapped his arms around her as it got worse, tears and snot running onto his shirt. 

“Laura?” Now he was worried. He had never seen her like this. Tortured, dehydrated, fighting gangrene and broken bones, he’d never seen her lose her shit.

“Take it. Please,” she sobbed.

“It?” Clint asked, lifting Cooper out of her arms. “Laura are you all right?”

“I need a bath,” she said. “Actually I think I need to take a shower to wash off the crust first.”

Clint opened his mouth but let her go when Cooper stirred, opening his mouth to let out a whine that was quickly building into a cry. She covered her ears and made a disgusted noise, sprinting for the stairs.

Clint fed him, changed him, and rocked him. It took a while but eventually the crying stopped and he fell asleep. Carefully placing him in the crib he’d assembled he went to see Laura.

She looked much better. Her eyes were closed and her hair was in wet tendrils around her, steam rising from the bubbles. 

He picked up a wash cloth and ran it down her cheek. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” She opened her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought your mom was going to come?”

“She did. For almost two weeks. She has to work.”

“Right.”

To his horror tears started down Laura’s face again. “I’m the worst mother ever.”

“Laura, Cooper’s great. He’s clean and fed and-“

“All he does is cry,” she moaned. “How can I be that bad a mother? That ALL my baby does is cry.”

“He’s got colic,” Clint said, kicking himself for not coming home when the email arrived. “He’s going to cry.”

“He’s sick. And he hates me.”

“Laura, he doesn’t hate you. He was sleeping on your chest when I came in. I don’t sleep on the chests of people I hate.” She glared at him and he grimaced. “Sorry. Not the time for jokes?”

She grabbed his arm. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

He gripped her hand. “Promise. I’ll call Coulson and tell him I’ll stay for a while. No assignments. No matter what. He shouldn’t even bother to call me.”

“Really?”

He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I will call him right now.”

She glanced up at the kiss. “You are definitely not getting laid any time soon,” she said.

He laughed. “That’s okay. I’ve seen you look better.”

She splashed water at him as he left the room, retrieving his phone.

“Hey dad, how’s my namesake?” Coulson greeted him.

“Good,” Clint said. “Laura is another story.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Cooper has colic. Between that and the hormones…I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Want me to send help?”

Clint scoffed. “You have SHIELD agents that specialize in infant care?”

“Do I hear you underestimating me, Barton?” He sighed. “I have an ulterior motive. Your wife is still on retainer. If we need her for something it’s going to be to our benefit to be able to send in someone she trusts to handle the baby.”

Clint considered the hallway littered with diapers, baby clothes, and definitely in need of sweeping. “Check back in with me in a week. Let’s see if the two of us can get it under control. How long does colic last?”

Coulson sucked in his breath between his teeth. “Three months. Almost exactly.”

“Well, let’s see how the next few weeks go. Definitely no missions in that time.”

“Take your time, I pulled you back too soon as it was. Give my best to Laura. And Cooper.”

He made it almost a week. He thought he’d take on Cooper and let Laura catch up on sleep and get the house straightened out. He thought she was exaggerating.

But the days (and nights) settled into an uncomfortable routine. It started with Cooper waking up screaming which led to a mad scramble to get him a warm bottle. Then it was a fight to get him to stop screaming long enough to wrap his lips around the nipple and suck, interrupted often for him to throw a screaming, fist waving tirade while the feeder in question tried to get the bottle back into his mouth. It took an hour or more to get enough into him, followed by burping and rocking. And rocking, and rocking. Usually it took another hour of screaming raging newborn before he fell into a fitful sleep. Which lasted nearly an hour before the whole thing repeated.

At Coulson’s next phone call Clint was ready to beg for help, although he didn’t make him. Coulson sent a woman to stay with them. And how he found Mary Poppins’ body double he would never know. Fortunately she wore jeans and a t-shirt and didn’t sing as much (although she did croon to Cooper a great plenty, and he seemed to like it).

Taking up residence in the spare bedroom she insisted on at least taking over night feedings, letting them sleep so they could handle the infant during the day. With her pitching in on laundry, grocery shopping, and her endless patience cooing at the screaming child things returned to normal and Clint and Laura stopped eyeing the pond like they intended to put on cement blocks and take up permanent residence in the bottom. 

“Poor dear,” the nanny kept saying. “Colic means an upset stomach. Little man is in pain and this is the only way he can tell you. Can’t blame him for making a fuss.”

“I can blame him,” Clint muttered.

Laura had elbowed him but a smile had returned to her face.

At his 10-week mark it was like someone flipped a switch. Suddenly he was sleeping three hours at a time and sucking down anything they offered him. He laughed and clapped and babbled and blew bubbles.

The nanny offered to stay but Laura insisted she was fine, her sunny disposition back, and she refused to leave Cooper’s side.

Clint enjoyed another week of baby bliss before he was called away.

He was called away a lot that year. The first time he came back, months later, Cooper cried at the sudden appearance of the stranger that wanted to hold him. In the week he hung around he warmed up a bit but still eyed him suspiciously.

He missed his first birthday but tears came to his eyes when Laura put the phone to the child’s ear as he crowed, “Daddy!” triumphantly into the phone.

He made sure he was home for Cooper’s second birthday. He was shy at first but by the end of the second day all he wanted was for Clint to carry him everywhere. He spent eight weeks at home.


	18. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't get to this yesterday. I got distracted.
> 
> I'm afraid the next few weeks might be a bit thin. My birthday's coming up so I'm visiting my friend next weekend and have one coming to see me the weekend after. Thanks for hanging in with me.

There was one fight. He would think of it as The Fight for years to come.

Cooper was three and Clint had a bad job. Things went wrong, kids were hurt, and he saw it all. And he was having nightmares. Phil put him on mandatory leave and sent him home, probably thankful his wife could straighten him out.

Laura pushed gently but left him alone when he withdrew, although she was getting pushier.  
And one night he woke up from a nightmare and Laura noticed, sitting up and asking if he wanted to talk. He said no, he was going for a run.

Which usually worked. Cooper still woke 2, 3 times per night and she refused to nap because she said the more she slept during the day the less she slept at night. So usually she was exhausted and was sound asleep before he returned.

The run didn't help much, and when he came back their light was on meaning she was waiting.

He couldn’t do it, not tonight. He wouldn't be able to sleep, she was waiting to give him the 3rd degree, and he couldn’t do it.

So he went into the barn and grabbed the bottle of Jack he had hidden there.

He didn't drink. When he was working he could be called on any moment and couldn't drink. And he had a few assault charges from bar brawls pre-SHIELD. He could be an angry drunk, although those guys, it could be argued, deserved it. So he didn’t drink around the family either.

But he wanted to sleep. And fuck he would sleep in the hay loft if he had to.

He was about an hour into the bottle when Laura came looking. He was sitting on the work bench (or maybe laying) and the suddenly Laura was standing over him with the bottle. He tried to make a grab for it, but whether she hadn't lost her touch in the two years since she had seen combat or he was actually that drunk, she retained control of the bottle.

"Seriously, Barton?" she asked. "You'd rather drink yourself stupid than TALK to your WIFE."

"When my wife is a shrink? Absolutely," he shot back.

"How about when she's a person that cares about you?" she demanded.

"Still a shrink," he responded stubbornly, swiping at the bottle she kept effortlessly out of his grasp.

"I used to be an agent. I've been there. Clint, you know I could help."

"I don't want help," he responded.

"That doesn't mean you don't need it." She sat, massaging her brow. "I miss you, you know? You aren't talking to me. It's like you aren't back."

"I don't know what you want from me," he said, throwing up his hands.

"I want my HUSBAND," she said loudly. "I want you to be part of this FAMILY. It isn't just me you know. You've barely spoken to Cooper."

“Well pardon me for not earning a degree in child behavior while I was out saving the country’s collective ass.”

“Clint, what HAPPENED? You’ve never had problems like this before.”

“It’s never been like this before.”

“So what different?”

“I’m a parent!” he snapped. “There were…kids. And all I could think, all I could see, was Cooper, and I couldn’t DO anything for them.”

“Was it your job to do anything for them?”

“No, I was just backup. Someone else was supposed to be handling the civilians.”

“Shit,” Laura whispered. “Clint, I’m so sorry.” 

She came toward him, reaching out, but he shrugged her off. “Get off of me,” he snarled.

“Yeah, the alcohol is really helping your sunny disposition,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Fine, I’ll talk to you later, when you’re over this.”

“That’s it,” he shot at her retreating form. “Just run away.”

She stopped and turned to glare at him. “Is that so different from what you’re doing?” she asked, waving the bottle at him.

“I have a reason,” he responded.

“You have an excuse,” she said, shaking her head. “And a damn pathetic one at that.”

Suddenly the blood was pumping too fast in his veins as he leveled himself to his feet. “I’ll show you fucking pathetic.” 

He wouldn’t remember raising his hand but suddenly it was there, red tinting the edges of his vision, Laura wide-eyed before him. “Really?” she said it slowly, quietly. With Laura, yelling was a good sign. It was when she got quiet that you had to worry. “That’s how it is now? Big man, going to come over and hit me?” she asked.

He stumbled backward, closing his eyes, trying to get his bearings. But suddenly Laura was in front of him shoving him. “Come on then, do it, I dare you. Try it.” She pushed him again. “Come on big man, you better make it good. Because I will fucking drop you.” His hand curled into a fist. “There you go.” She tapped her cheek. “Right there, let’s see what you’ve got.” Head spinning, he turned away. “Yeah. I think you better find another place to sleep tonight. Don’t go trying to crawl into my bed.” She turned on her heel, dumping the bottle on her way to the house.

It took him almost an hour to work up the courage to let himself into the house. He fell onto the couch, pulling the afghan over himself and passing out.

He woke the next morning to a killer headache and the sound of Laura cheerfully setting Cooper up in his high chair. He sat up to watch her put his sippy cup of milk onto the table and scatter of Cheerios on the tray. Turning she walked up to the couch as Cooper giggled and threw his cup to the ground. “Laura,” he said as she drew closer, trying to work moisture into his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m surprised you remember any of it,” she said without emotion, placing a full glass of water and a few pills on the table between them. “I’m sure you have a headache.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking it and watching her move around the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of juice and popping toast into the toaster. None of her chill moved to their son. She spoke cheerfully to him and was attentive as always, returning his sippy cup to the tray five times. Clint sat and watched the sunline filtering through the windows, painting blue where it hit the bottles Laura had on the shelves around the kitchen. He sat, watching her, the perfect picture of domestic bliss, wondering how much longer he was going to be part of it. Laura had told him enough horror stories about her father to know what he had done last night bordered on her worst nightmare. He couldn’t blame her for drawing away from that.

When Cooper was settled she glanced toward him, inclining her head toward the stairs. He followed obediently, closing the door behind them as she sat on the bed. He swallowed hard, going down on his knees in front of her, taking her hand. “Laura, I’m so sorry.”

“Are you?” When he looked away she reached down and turned his eyes up to hers.

“I’m so sorry Laura. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Why didn’t you just TALK to me?” she demanded. 

“I didn’t want to…lay it on you,” he sighed. “I won’t do it ever again. Promise.”

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep,” she said.

“I wouldn’t. I won’t.”

She sighed. “And you’ll talk to me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

She took his face in her hands. “That’s what I want.” She lifted him, to put a kiss on his lips, then patted the bed next to her. “So tell me about it. I’ll try not to be too shrink-y.”

It settled into a pattern with them. When he came home he greeted Cooper enthusiastically and showered him with attention, and when he was in bed he sat and talked to Laura. Sometimes he crawled into the bath with her. Sometimes he lay on the bed next to her. Sometimes he went to the barn and ranted and raved while she sat on the tractor or a bale of hay and he threw things at the targets. But he always talked, and it always ended with Laura wrapping her arms around him and fucking him senseless. No matter how much he wanted to run and hide the thought the after party brought him right back to his wife.


	19. Laura's gonna kill me

Laura was going to kill him.

This was becoming a common thought when he did stupid things.

He wasn’t certain it had ever echoed in his head as loudly as it did right now. It didn’t stop him rappelling off the building and running full-tilt to pull the kid, he would guess all of eight years old, off of the bike. He barely had time to turn and run before the place blew. As he went down he did his best to cover the kid.

When he woke he came to the conclusion that he had either a concussion or was on major pain meds. Or both.

He was cognizant enough to know he was in a hospital, although if he had been able to think more clearly he would have realized the incessant beeping that usually drove him crazy was absent.

As often happened with pain meds and/or head trauma time became fuzzy at best.

And then suddenly Laura was there, smiling down at him.

It was the smile that worried him. Normally after he’d done something stupid and Coulson had her brought in to his hospital bed she’d be a thundercloud. It wasn’t unusual for him to pummel with a pillow. If he was lucky it would be a pillow. And there would certainly be a tirade to go  
with it. He usually got her to smile eventually, but that took time.

If she was smiling something was very wrong.

“Hey,” he whispered. His voice echoed in his head oddly.

She offered him a sip from one of the prevalent hospital pitchers. He took it gratefully. “Thank you,” he whispered as she set it aside. “What’s wrong?”

The smile turned watery. She took his hand and guided his fingers to his ears, which were covered with cotton. He gave her a look. “My ears?”

She nodded, and picked up a white board and a black marker. ‘Your ear drums were damaged.’

“Explosion,” he said, blinking at the memory. She nodded. “I’m deaf?”

She used her sleeve to wipe the board, black smudge on her light blue sweater. He reached out to stop her hand. “I can read lips.” It had made sense, years ago. A guy that spent time watching people through a scope, he figured he could be of more use if he knew what people were saying. SHIELD had agreed enthusiastically.

She erased again, and wrote, ‘I want to make sure you understand.’

“I’ll understand. I read lips in three languages.”

She gave him a look and cursed at him in Russian. He flipped her off. She rolled her eyes and went back to writing. ‘No you won’t. You’ll pull your macho BS and pretend you understand whether you do or not to prove how capable you are.’

He glared at her, she glared back. Finally he sighed. “If I don’t understand, I’ll ask.”

She sighed and set the board aside. “They’re not sure. Your eardrums are damaged. They’re not sure how bad the damage is just yet. They want to make sure it has a chance to heal before they do anything else.”

“But it doesn’t look good.”

When he looked away she took his hand to draw his eyes back. “Coulson is out there digging up every bit of tech he SHIELD has ever made involving sound sensing.” She grinned. “He’s going to have a sound-sensing helmet on you if that’s what it takes.”

He blinked. “What about the kid?” He caught at her hand. “There was a kid.”

She nodded. “The mom came flying down, freaking out when she saw his bike. When the agents rolled you over he flew into her arms.”

“He’s all right?”

“Little ringing in the ears. It will fade.” She ran a hand down his cheek. “My hero.” She kissed his cheek. “You’ll learn sign language, just in case. Keep you busy in the mean time.”

He blinked at her. “I know sign language,” he said, signing with it.

She blinked at him. He repeated himself, and she shook her head. ' _How have I been married to you this long, she signed at him, and you STILL surprise me?'_

He grinned up at her. ' _Where did you learn?_ ' He didn’t bother to speak this time.

 _'Cousin_.'

 _'I never met this cousin.'_ He’d seen enough of her crew he thought he must have met them all.

_'She lives in Texas. You?'_

' _Carnie kid about my age._ ' He grinned up at her. ' _So you’ll have to find some other way to keep me busy now?_ '

' _Behave. The place is crawling with doctors. And Coulson could walk in any moment_.'

_'Coulson has seen worse.'_

She snorted, motioning him back and curling into his left side. It was odd, she usually slept on the right. Closer to the hall, if the kids woke and called for her, keep his dominant hand free, but they had run the IVs into his left. He supposed that was normal, they would assume he was right handed.

' _Stop worrying over it_ ,' she spelled against his chest.

“I can’t help but think of all the things I’ll miss.” He ran his hands through her hair. “Cooper’s just starting to talk. To hear him when he really gets going. And you singing. God I’d miss that.”

She looked up him so he could read his lips. “You’ll hear me sing.” He was fairly certain she didn’t actually speak, just mouthed the words. But for some reason he believed her.

It took two weeks for the doctors to admit defeat and hand down the final conclusion that his hearing loss was permanently at 80% and they were ready to fit them with hearing aids Laura very politely told them to fuck off.

She took him home. Cooper crawled on him and crowed and cried when Clint wouldn’t respond to his calls. “Daddy doesn’t like me,” he sobbed into Laura’s shoulder.

Laura soothed him and put him to bed before finding her husband staring blankly into space on the couch. She put a finger under his chin, guiding his eyes to her face. “He just needs to get used to it,” she assured him.

“I’d rather he didn’t.”

“Well, I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I don’t think he will. Coulson found the tech, I found the surgeons. We should have you in surgery before the end of the month.”

“What’s it going to be? How will they do it?”

“An implant in your ear.” She reached up to brush his ear. “It’s good enough at gathering sound. It’s the receiver that isn’t working. So the implant goes in there and they go around the broken eardrum.” She ran a finger back into his hair. “Do direct input.”

He blinked at her. “Is this going to be brain surgery?”

“Looks like.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

“Too bad.”

“I don’t have a say in now?”

“It will be fine.” She cuddled close, raising her hands to sign, I promised I would get your hearing back and I will do it. Even if it means fighting you yourself.

He ran a hand through his hair. “They’re going to mess up my do.”

' _I could shave it now if you would like_ ,' she responded.

“Evil woman. No sneaking up with me with electric razors just because I can’t hear to defend myself.”

She didn’t sneak up on him. He was wide awake and well aware when she shaved the areas the surgeon said he would need (and in fact circled with a sharpie for her). He couldn’t hear her cackling but he could see the shake of her shoulders, however steady her hand.

She was holding his hand when he felt the familiar burn of the sedative working up his arm.

And she was there when he opened his eyes again. It would be several days before he was allowed to take the gauze off and see (or hear) if it was successful. So he signed, Can’t believe I let you talk me into brain surgery.

It’s not as if you were using all of it anyway, she responded with a smile.

And when the days passed and the gauze was removed he looked up at her, his ears straining. “Say something.”

“I do have some news I’ve been waiting to tell you.” He grinned, closing his eyes to drink in every word until she took his hand, pressing it to her stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

He jumped out of the chair, wrapped his arms around her and spun with her laughter ringing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I got one out anyway. Just a pit stop. I love deaf Clint, I had to stick it in somehow.


	20. Heeere's Johnny

All he could think of was how pissed Laura was going to be. 

Again.

He’d been back at work two weeks, had sworn he wouldn’t do anything stupid, that he would be there in four months when the baby was born.

And here he stood, facing down a 16-year-old he knew he couldn’t shoot.

For one thing, if he loosed now she’d shoot him for sure. If he was going to shoot her the opportunity had passed. All that would happen was both of them dead from head shots. He’d hesitated a moment too long. Because for just a second he had imagined the child growing in his wife’s body looking just like this girl sixteen years into the future. 

Laura had a few red-haired cousins and in the right sunlight you would swear she was ginger. And something about the easy grace of this girl was so like Laura. The first time he’d seen her dance at the downtown ballet studio she volunteered at, giving the older girls pointe lessons, had left his jaw on the floor. He’d thought she was beautiful when she was sparing. He hadn’t had any idea he was marrying a ballerina and she’d buried her love for the dance shortly after joining SHIELD but the tedium of days with a toddler had reawakened her passion for the art form. 

The petite girl before him could have easily been Laura’s sister. And he couldn’t put an arrow through her eye.

“What are you waiting for?” she demanded, gun unwavering in her grip.

“Right back at you,” he responded.

“You think this is the best time to ask why I’m not shooting you in the head?”

“Turnabout is fair play,” he said, wondering if the Russian knew the idiom.

“I’ll do it,” she sneered.

“Then why haven’t you?” he asked. “Get on with it if you’re going to.” She glared at him, but he read more in the pause. “Unless you want to make a different call.”

“Like what?” she snapped.

He loosened his hold on the bow. He didn’t drop it, could still draw in a flash, but the implication was clear. “Or you could come work for me.”

He didn’t blame her for scoffing. The suggestion was ridiculous. Except…

Except that she wasn’t pulling that trigger.

“You think I would do that? You think I would betray my country?”

And suddenly he caught sight of what had been itching at the back of his brain. What he had known unconsciously but hadn’t put his finger on until that moment.

There was something behind her eyes. Something tired and haunted. Something that was sick of being used. Suddenly being scared of doing anything but what she had always known wasn’t enough to keep her in line. She wanted out.

She had come here expecting to die at his hand. Just the way a young carnie who didn’t know why he was still helping these criminals that had raised him with more pain than compassion, had stood before criminal after criminal twelve years earlier, waiting for the bang of the gun and the shock of the bullet against his skull.

The appearance of then Laura Beddington had changed all that.

Laura would be furious if she could see him now. Not walking away with his life while he had the chance. But to take a chance on a kid, she’d understand that too.

“What if you could do better?” he asked. “What if we don’t send you straight against Mother Russia, but you have the opportunity to do some good? To save some lives?”

“What makes you think I care about any of that?”

He tilted his head to consider. “Intuition. And the fact that you haven’t shot me yet. Seems like you’re looking for something better.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Little girl, I could tell you some stories.”

“I’m not a little girl,” she snapped.

“I thought that’s what you wanted them to think,” he responded innocently.

“But you know better.”

“I’m sure you’ve done a lot of living,” he said. “But you’re still only sixteen.”

“Do you think that really matters?”

“It does to me,” he said. “Come in with me. What’s the worst that could happen? You bide your time and kill me later. It’s doing nothing but giving you more opportunities.”

He could hear Coulson sigh on the other end of the coms. “Readying transport for two.”

“Two?” he dimly heard the pilot say.

He put the arrow away, slung the bow over his shoulder, offered her a hand. “What do you say you give me the gun?”

Her hand tightened on it. “I like this gun.”

“I’ll take good care of it for you. Promise.”

She lowered it, but made no move to hand it over. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I’d believe that,” he said. “You’re that good. But SHIELD has enough in your file for me to have a pretty good idea.”

“It’s too much. I’m too far gone. I’ve killed people. Innocent people. Children.”

He shrugged. “You’re young. You have a lot of time to make it up. You set your mind to it, you can fix it.”

“You don’t think it’s too late?”

“Never too late. I’m proof of that.” He held out his hand again. “You have red in your ledger. Time to wipe it out. Let me help you. Let me show you.” She eyed his suspiciously. “It’s what I do. It’s what SHIELD does.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He shrugged. “Intuition. Same way I knew you weren’t going to shoot me. Same way I know you aren’t going to shoot my colleagues when I bring you in. What say you give me the gun and we go out and meet them?”

She studied him for several long moments before finally handing him the gun. “That’s not my only weapon.”

He laughed. “I know. I’m sure in addition to the three I can see and the two I can reasonably assume are there you have another three weapons I’ve got no idea about.”

“If you include all the ways I could kill you without a weapon you’d have over a dozen.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her toward the exit. She ducked out from under his arm with a glare, but he just shrugged and kept walking.

She had no problem following him up the fire escape to their roof rendezvous, and did it so quietly he had to check a few times to make sure she was still there.

“That was stupid,” she told him as he swung a leg onto the roof and offered her a hand which she completely ignored.

“If you wanted to kill me the time to do it was in the cozy little warehouse, not out here where my boss and about ten other agents could see you.

She bared her teeth at him which was far more terrifying than he could have believed.

He turned to watch the jet land. Coulson strode out to meet them with three armed agents with guns trained on her behind him. “Ms. Romanova,” he greeted. “I’m Agent Coulson. That’s Agent Barton, since he failed to introduce himself.” He sounded all the world as if he were scolding Clint for his manners. “We would like to bring you in now, if you would be willing to accompany me on the plane.” He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, flashing them at her. “And I’m required to see to it that you are secured for the flight.”

“Jeeze Coulson, you don’t give them jewelry on the first date. You’re making me look bad. I didn’t bring her anything.”

Coulson didn’t bat an eye at Clint’s response and the girl sneered at the metal. “I could get out of those in five seconds.”

“Then putting them on shouldn’t be a problem for you. May I?” She shrugged and turned, allowing him to secure her hands. The agents behind him didn’t relax a millimeter, which put a smirk on her face. “This way if you please,” he said, throwing an arm up toward the plane as if ushering her to her seat at a fancy restaurant.

She marched into the plane and sat agreeably in the middle of the bank of seats. The agents arranged themselves around her, guns pointed at her. Clint buckled her in, careful not to touch her in any way he didn’t have to. Her eyes shone with amusement, although he wasn’t sure if it was the men with the guns she found so funny or his propriety.

Coulson was waiting with folded arms when he was finished, and he nodded toward the cockpit. “I’d like to speak with you for a minute, Agent Barton,” he said in his usual calm, even way, although the smile on the girl’s face suggested she knew perfectly well he was about to get a ribbing.

He followed the handler in, glancing at the pilots that pretended to be involved in takeoff procedures and certainly not listening in.

“I believe there was a kill order on this assignment,” Coulson said.

“Oh, come on,” Clint responded. “Seriously, you sent me in to shoot a 16-year-old that could be Laura’s little sister. Was there any part of you that did expect me to pull the trigger?” Coulson opened his mouth but he barreled on. “You didn’t expect me to shoot her any more than you expected me to walk away from the building they were holding Laura in. We both know it.”

“And what would Laura say if she knew you endangered your life needlessly because you refused to follow an order?”

He swallowed. He had intended to give a snappy response but instead what came out of his mouth was, “Please don’t tell her.” Even Coulson took a moment to blink at that, which of course gave Clint the chance to run his mouth some more. “She’s pregnant again. She just told me. She’s emotional and hormonal and the thought of it would just worry her.”

“You want me to lie to one of my agents?”

“She isn’t even a SHIELD agent any more, hasn’t been in two years. At least not a very active one. And you were never her handler.”

“She has friends at the agency. She’s bound to hear about this sooner or later.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just crossing my fingers I can convince her it wasn’t that bad.” He shrugged. “Think of it, Coulson. A Widow working for SHIELD.”

Coulson made an uncertain sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t get your hopes up too much. There’s a chance she’s beyond repair. It’s going to take months of psychological probing and retraining before we can trust her a few feet out of the door. Maybe years. It’s entirely possible, likely even, that she’s too damaged to outweigh her potential as an agent.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “You don’t believe that.” He shrugged. “Aren’t you to one that told me no one is that far gone? That anyone-“

“She isn’t a kid looking for acceptance that fell in with the wrong crowd, Barton. She’s a girl who’s been physically and psychologically trained and tortured since she was eight. She’s been turned into the most lethal weapon we’ve ever seen. We were damn lucky to catch her.”

Clint shook his head. “If she’s that good maybe it was because she’s a lost kid looking for acceptance and that’s the only reason we got her.” Clint ran a hand through his hair. “Let me work with her. We have a connection. Maybe I can draw her out.”

“You’re an asset, Clint. We are going to need you out in the field.”

“Whenever I’m around then. You know I hate being stuck on base but I’ll do it for her. Please-“

Coulson held up a hand. “I’ll float the idea out there. It’s not going to be my decision.” He waved a hand. “Go have a seat. Make sure she hasn’t disarmed the entire contingent. I have to make a very unpleasant call to the director.”

Clint winced but he turned to go.

He was somewhat surprised to find her still sitting in her seat with the three jumpy agents around her.

“Look at you, behaving yourself,” he praised.

She shrugged. “I could have taken them, but you would have heard, and in this confined space the chance of a bullet ricochet…” She shrugged again. “Sitting here seemed like the better play.”

“Making good choices,” he said. “Says something about you wanting to be here too.”

She glanced at the door she’d just entered. “Not a lot of choice. If I go out there they’ll come after me. Try to kill me.”

Clint snorted. “Good luck with that. In case you haven’t noticed you’re a hard one to kill.”

“Well at least if SHIELD decides to do it it will be clean and quick.”

“They’re not going to kill you.”

She gave him a look. “Don’t write checks your ass can’t cash, Barton,” she advised. With that she lay her head back against the seat and to all appearances fell asleep.


	21. Payback

It hadn’t occurred to him how much trouble a 16-year-old who was 100 lbs dripping wet could actually cause.

Ironically it wasn’t the super spy killer sociopath that was getting to him. It was the seductress.

He was sure Coulson would have been annoyed that he didn’t expect this. Laura too, for that matter.

But it hadn’t occurred him to expect her to sneak out of the debriefing room five hours after being locked in, hack a computer to find out where his room was, override the security settings on his door, and sneak into his bedroom while he remained blissfully unconscious.

She would give him crap for years to come about that. The fact that he stayed asleep so long, didn’t hear her approach. You’d think she would be pleased that she was that sneaky but apparently it was more fun to pick at him.

To be fair, he had spent the last week getting about two hours of sleep at a time tracking her through every run down rat’s nest flea infested dung heap in Dubai. He was tired, he had no reason to believe he wasn’t perfectly secure in his SHIELD quarters, and he passed out. Hard.

He’d been planning to spend a few days with Laura and Cooper at the farm. As he’d drifted off it had occurred to him that volunteering to take care of Natalia had probably shot that plan to hell.

He never remembered his dreams but he was pretty sure the thought had been enough to lull him into the sort of headspace that had his return to consciousness making him think he was in the sleepy farmhouse with his wife.

Which didn’t make the hand in his pants all that unusual. Laura was as starved as him, and his first week home they spent a lot of time checking to make sure Cooper was out of sight. Especially challenging because Laura wasn’t a screamer but she certainly wasn’t quiet.

So it wasn’t unusual for him to wake with her hands on him. She tended to wake up with the sun for her early jogs and he had no objection to her waking him for a little workout of their own before she headed out. He loved rolling over and smelling her on the sheets as he basked in the afterglow, her grinning face lingering behind his closed eyelids.

But something was off here. The hand wasn’t as certain. The movements were wrong. A counterclockwise twist where she usually went clockwise. Like these hands didn’t have years of experience that knew what made him melt.

He opened his eyes, finding nothing but darkness. Their bedroom on the farm was never dark. They had a bay window opposite the bed and two windows on the wall the bed was pressed against. Moonlight, starlight, or sunrise there was always plenty of light to see by. The complete absence of light confused him for a moment.

Then he felt the hard, short bunk beneath him, the scratchy institutional sheets. The small LED lights on the mechanics around him.

He hit the switch, blinking at the sudden light. Blinking more at the young redhead straddling him with her hand in his underwear.

He seized her wrist and removed it, pushed her up. “What are you doing here?” She had the grace to look down but she looked far from contrite. More sultry eyes through lashes, biting her full lower lip. “Natalia, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to….” She trailed off, meeting his eyes.

“You wanted to what?”

“Thank you. Pay you back.”

“And this is how you do that?” She nodded, her eyes wide. He dropped her hand, giving her a glare that warned her not to try it again. “Of course it is. This is how you’ve always done it isn’t it?”

She nodded again. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know better. Just don’t do it again.”

“Are you gay?”

“What? No! Just because I’m not into little girls that feel beholden-“ He stopped and turned away. “How did you get here?”

“I’m sixteen. That’s plenty old enough-“

“Not here it isn’t.”

“Where is here?” she asked. “America? SHIELD?”

“It’s…just don’t do it again. And I can’t believe Fury released you. You escaped didn’t you?”

“There are plenty of places-“

“I’m taking you back,” he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the door.

She went easily but she paused as they reached the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to put on pants first?”

“What?” He followed her eyes down. “Oh fuck, hold on.”

She giggled as he went back for pants. Actually giggled. He glared. “Sure, the one time you act like a human is when it serves to annoy me,” he grumbled, pulling on sweatpants and stuffing his feet into shoes. He grabbed her arm again. “Let’s go.”

 

It was four weeks in when he decided he had enough. Laura and the farm were a secret Coulson and Fury were glad to help him keep (he blamed Laura’s charm although he knew her willingness to help out with dire psychological situations didn’t hurt). But he was sick of staving off the advances of a girl (almost) young enough to be his daughter.

She didn’t push it, didn’t touch him again, at least not in a way that was obviously sexual. That was good, although he was pretty sure it was just her being sure she could break him given enough time so she didn’t have to.

All right, so he was tempted. He was finally willing to admit that. Had admitted it to Laura, who assured him as long as nothing happened she really wasn’t too worried about it. She trusted him. She didn’t have much choice, with him so far away all the time but never the less, there it was.

Natalia was gorgeous. She knew this. Hell, anyone with eyes knew it. Something about the novelty of red hair drew him (he tried to believe that was Laura’s influence, with her brunette locks turning red in the sunrise light which made up the majority of the time they had alone together). And she was gorgeous. All curves. And man did she know how to use them. Training, he remind himself. She’d been trained and warped into this. But the distinctly male part of his brain (where Laura maintained the majority of the stupid stuff that he did resided) couldn’t have cared less.

So six weeks into babysitting her when she started to get handsey while pinning him to the mat for the third time in an hour (and worse when his body started to respond) he threw her off with more force than necessary. Her eyes had sparkled as she came back to the defensive stance. She knew what she was doing and damn it, she thought she was winning.

“That’s it,” he announced, going for his water. He tossed hers to her. “Go take a shower and change into civilian clothes.”

“Why?”

“We’re going for a drive.” He drew closer. “We need to have a talk and we’re not going to have it here.”

She grinned. “Well if that makes you feel better. I really don’t see why we can’t just do it in your room. And is there any point getting all clean when we’re just going to sweat-”

“Shower!” he barked, pointing a finger at the girl’s locker room. “Now!”

“All right, if that’s what works for you.” She threw up her hands. “I’ll go get nice and clean for you.”

He was waiting for her outside of the locker rooms twenty minutes later, keys in hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked, an obnoxious spring in her step as she followed him.

“For a drive.”

“Come on, you could at least spring for a hotel. I’m not picky.”

He glared at her and she gave up with a sigh, although it did nothing to remove the sparkle in her eye.

She nodded when he led her to his sleek little sports car in the parking garage. “Nice,” she remarked as she got in, running an appreciative hand over the metal, turning to look over her shoulder into the back seat. “Not a lot of space for-“ His glare silenced her, and just to drive the point home he turned over the engine and revved it a few times to drown her out.

Thankfully she rode in silence. He drove to a park ten minutes from the base, a secluded area that had been Laura’s favorite jogging path when she was stationed there. When he put the car in park the girl started to reach for him but he swatted her hand away. “Out,” he ordered gruffly, opening his door and exiting to start down the path.

She followed and when she caught up he took a deep breath.

“What I’m about to tell you is important, Natalia,” he said, making eye contact to drive the point home. “There aren’t many people at SHIELD that know it. Coulson does. And Fury, obviously. Hill probably. They always got along.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folded, well worn photo. “I’m married.” Natalia blinked several times and he mentally patted himself on the back for catching her off guard. “Her name is Laura. We have a son, Cooper.” He offered her the photo of Laura, sitting on a blanket surrounded by grass and sunlight, holding Cooper up to wave one of his chubby arms at the camera. When she didn’t reach for it he folded it and put it back away, keeping his hands in his pockets. “I don’t tell people about her to keep her safe. She’s on a farm in the Midwest. I love her.” He stopped shaking his head. “I don’t have words for it. She’s…” he shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never cheated on her. I’ve never wanted to.”

“She would never know,” the girl offered.

“I know. But I would. I’d never forgive myself.”

For once Natalia had the grace to look abashed.

“You’re good,” he said. “You’re beautiful and you’re hot and you’re…but you know all this. Thing is, at the end of the day, I’m a man. If you keep this up, chances are I’m going to cave. So I’m asking you, please, respectfully, for the sake of what little sanity I have left, cut me a little slack?”

“What’s she like?” she finally asked.

“She’d like you,” he said with a chuckle. “Used to be an agent.”

“And now she’s happy on a farm with your kids?”

He smiled. “She had an injury, took her off active duty. She has advanced degrees in psychology, still conferences in from time to time.” Natalia wrinkled her nose and Clint laughed. “She isn’t that bad. The psychologist persona is very…detached from her daily persona. She keeps them VERY separate.”

“That’s how you met her? Here?”

“Sure. Where else would I ever have time to meet someone?” 

Natalia shrugged. “Why do you think she’d like me?”

He considered that for a moment. “She likes strong women.”

Natalia scoffed. “I’m well trained. It’s different.”

“It is different,” Clint agreed. “But you’re both. You have a lot of potential. If you would just let yourself access it.”

“You’re deep all of a sudden,” she commented.

“Yeah, don’t give me too much credit,” he advised. “I’m mostly just repeating stuff Coulson told me when I came on.”

She got quiet after that, chewing on the information. The fact that he’d told her something that deep and personal was probably freaking her out as much as anything.

When the path led them back to the car she climbed in and rode silently back. Went to her rooms without a word, eyes still miles away.

He called Laura a few hours later. “I told Natalia about you,” he burst out immediately. “I had to. She was getting a little…I was starting to…” He paced, trying to find the right words. Laura waited quietly. “We were sparing and it was getting…I was starting to…my body, I can’t…”

Laura laughed musically. “Clint, of course you did.”

He paused. “What?”

“I have her file. Don’t freak out, Coulson sent it to me when I suggested I could help. She’s a girl who’s been used for sex her whole life, one way or another. You saved her life, she feels like she owes you a debt. She wants to pay it back.” There was a pause. “Did you reject her?”

“Laura! Of course I did.”

“Well keep your guard up. She won’t give up that easily.”

“Laura?”

“Hm?”

“She’s not going to tempt me.”

Laura snickered. “She’s pretty.”

“She is.”

“And young.”

“There’s that.”

“And she doesn’t have stretch marks.”

“I love your stretch marks,” he objected.

“You’re such a liar,” she laughed.

“I love you Laura.”

“Love you too. You’re a good man.” Her voice was heavy with emotion. “I wouldn’t know Clint. Most men wouldn’t even hesitate.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you Laura. I love you.”

“I know you do. You’re a strong man.”

“I’m not.” 

“You think anyone else would be able to resist her?”

He paused. “Coulson would.”

“Coulson is a robot. And I’m not so sure that would stop him either.”

Clint scuffed his foot on the floor. “It’s only because of you.”

“Doesn’t matter why, Clint. It’s true all the same.”

“Love you Laura.”

“Love you too Clint. You’re doing a good thing here. For her.”

“You always see the best in me.”

“I think that was in the vows.”

He laughs. “No it wasn’t.”

“Was in my head. You do the same for me.”

“It’s easy.”

“Wouldn’t be for everyone.” There was a noise in the background, and she sighed. “I have to go take care of Coop.”

“Give him a hug for me.”

“Big one. Take care of that girl.”


	22. Whatever Laura Wants...

Two weeks later Coulson was waiting for him when he got back to the base, and he could tell by the look on his face it wasn’t good.

“Natalia?” he asked as he approached, fighting the urge to groan. He’d spent 48 hours straight on a mission, the entire plane ride there in prep and the entire plane ride back debriefing. Coulson had had to stay behind and the handler they’d stuck him with didn’t seem to be aware of the Barton-sleeps-on-plane-rides clause. All he wanted was a hot shower and bed.

Coulson nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

“Bad?”

Coulson nodded again, turning to walk beside him.

Clint winced. He hadn’t done badly with the girl lately. Since they’d talked she’d opened up a bit. Not long conversations but she revealed tidbits here and there. He was careful not to push and that seemed to please her.

Unfortunately he seemed to be the only person who could say that, and he’d achieved it mostly by keeping her away from other people. Also not doing badly didn’t necessarily translate into making progress.

With the exception of Coulson and Bobbi Clint wasn’t all that friendly with most of the agents, coupled with the solitary nature of his job that meant not many knew him to begin with, it wasn’t hard to keep people at a distance. They’d eaten in the corner of the commons without interruptions with the use of a few glares. There was certainly a curiosity about the Widow, but her reputation was enough to give anyone pause. He’d let her kick him from one end of the gym to the other, which had only made more people afraid to approach her. He’d tried to interest her in movies but she’d simply proclaimed them different shades of boring and irrelevant. He’d started with action, thinking it would appeal. When he tried to draw her into a conversation about it all she did was point out that none of it could possibly be real. He hadn’t expected romantic comedies to work but he tried one of Laura’s favorites. She hadn’t made it through fifteen minutes before she threatened to vomit on him if he didn’t shut it off. She would tolerate straight up comedy but she would never cop to liking it and criticized it if he pushed. Some dramas seemed to catch her interest but he hadn’t figured out what the key was to that. Some she hated violently, others she tolerated. Histories were boring, war movies didn’t interest her. She scoffed at sci fi. She couldn’t stand video games that she wasn’t immediately adept at, and if he beat her even once she was done with it.

He hadn’t been invited to any of her psych visits but the reports weren’t good. They’d switched her between a dozen of the SHIELD’s best and they’d all labeled her uncooperative, surly, and withdrawn. If they did get her to talk at all it was snarled refusals to reveal any information. When he asked she just griped that she couldn’t trust them and refused to say more than that. He could hardly blame her.

“Anyone dead?” he asked with a chuckle.

He stopped when Coulson nodded.

“An agent?”

“No, an asset.”

Clint waited. “Well?” he finally demanded.

“An asset. He was being escorted, saw a helpless 100 pound 16-year-old girl. Decided to make an attempt. He grabbed her. She broke his neck before the agents had time to aim. When they didn’t immediately drop their weapons she injured a few of them. She nearly killed Sitwell.”

“Well there have been a few times I’ve been more than a little tempted to kill Sitwell,” Clint said.

“I’m not disputing that,” Coulson said quickly. “But she snapped. She’s dangerous. And four months of us working with her hasn’t done any good.”

“So what?” Clint demanded. 

“I don’t know.”

“What’s your plan, Coulson?”

“It isn’t MY plan,” he answered calmly.

“Kill her? Neutralize her?”

“I don’t know Clint. It isn’t my decision. There’s some serious discussion-“

“You haven’t tried everything.”

“Clint-“

“It’s not over yet.”

Coulson stopped to face him. “I know she’s young and I know you want to save her.” He shook his head. “Not everyone can be saved. Sometimes they’re just too damaged.”

He grabbed Coulson’s arm. “You haven’t tried Laura.”

“Clint!” Coulson shook his head.

“Let me take her to the farm. Let Laura really work with her. One-on-one.”

“You want to take an unstable agent to the farm to interact with your wife and your two-year-old child?”

“Cooper can stay with his grandmother until Laura decides if it’s safe or not.”

“Clint-“

“What have you got to lose?”

“Her,” Coulson said. “What if she disappears?”

“Then I’ll find her again. I did before.”

“You got lucky.”

“Then I’ll…I’ll do it this time.”

“Do what?”

“I’ll put an arrow through her eye.”

Coulson shook his head “Clint, you couldn’t do that when you didn’t know her.”

“I’m that sure that this is going to work.”

Coulson glared at the man who kept his hand on his shoulder. Finally he shrugged. “It’s not my decision. No decision has been made. But I will bring it up.”

“Thank you,” Clint said, turning to go.

Coulson’s eyes narrowed. “Clint! Don’t call Laura!” When he got no answer but the sound of his agent’s feet retreating down the hallway he sighed. 

*******************************************************************************************************

Coulson wasn’t exactly surprised when the screen flashed and the brunette appeared. Her chin was resting on her palm, the picture of boredom despite the fact that she must have been typing furiously just moments before in order to hack her way into the multimedia system. The room she was in was claustrophobicly small, the wall behind her was reinforced steal, the floor bare cement. A pile of quilts rested on a bucket and a few safes were stacked against the wall, a package of bottled water on top.

They both fell silent as the Director turned to face the screen. “Barton!” he barked.

“You know you’ve gotten much better at barking at me since I changed my name.”

“Your husband has given me plenty of practice,” he ground out. “Here I though HE was going to be the one I had to worry about.” She smiled serenely. “Instead I have YOU hacking into SHIELD feeds.”

She shrugged. “You gave me the dedicated line, Nick.”

“It wasn’t so that you could eavesdrop on classified meetings. How many discussions way over your clearance level did you listen in on before you figured out which room we were in?”

“Please Nick, I know how boring those meetings are. I used to be an agent. Besides, Clint just called me 20 minutes ago and I still had to get Cooper down for a nap.” Her eyes turned to Coulson. “He’d like to know when Uncle Phil is coming for a visit.”

“When I don’t have to stand over your husband’s shoulder to watch his every move,” Coulson responded.

“So never?”

“I’ll see if I can squeeze in some time next time he gets himself tossed into quarantine,” Coulson said.

“How much has he told you about the girl?” Nick asked, folding his arms.

“’The girl’ has a name,” Laura said. “She isn’t a science experiment. Treating her like a human being will go a long way toward making her act like a human.”

“Well the girl identifies closely with any one of a dozen names, and will answer to nearly anything else,” Nick said.

“Unless she chooses not to respond at all,” Coulson put in. “Laura, she’s dangerous.”

“So am I. So are you.” She shrugged. “So are guns and nuclear devises and lawn mowers, in the right circumstances. So is Nick’s eyepatch if you steal it and he catches you stalking around yelling at senior agents.” She ignored his glare and leaned forward, her smile slipping. “So was Bobbi Morse when we first got her back and she was convinced she had never been our agent and we were keeping her from her husband while her actual husband paced outside the doors. So was Constance Morrison and Kevin Striker and any number of other agents I’ve worked with.”

“You’re not an agent anymore.”

“I am an agent. I’m just on reserve for emergencies.” She leaned back and folded her arms. “I would say you talking about eliminating a 16-year-old girl with the potential to be one of the best agents we’ve ever had is an emergency.”

“Who said we’re talking about eliminating her?” Fury demanded.

“I know how this system works. I know it’s on the table and you’re eliminating other options by the day. And she’s been with you a lot of days.” She wrapped her fingers on the table. “She knows it too.”

“So what, you come here and take charge of her?”

Laura shook her head. “Send her to me.”

“Laura,” Coulson cut in, “she’s still unpredictable. You don’t want her around Cooper.”

“My cousin in Omaha has been dying to have a week with him.”

“And if she isn’t stable after one week?” Fury asked.

“My mother will take him. Let me worry about that.”

“Why don’t you want to come here?” Coulson asked.

She sighed. “That’s familiar. She knows what to do in that situation. She’s one step ahead of you the whole way. You have to make her vulnerable to prove she can trust you.”

“You think that will make her LESS volatile?”

“Not at first,” she said. “But eventually. Plus this place has an effect on people.” She tapped her fingers. “I’ll need my husband here too. At first at least.”

“That important?”

Laura nodded. “She trusts him at least on some level. You’d be surprised how much more at ease you can be with someone who had the opportunity to kill you but didn’t, even on a subconscious level. If he’s there to prove that he trusts me that will go a long way toward earning her trust too.”

“You don’t think she knows he trusts you?”

“Empirically yes. But she isn’t accustomed to taking things at face value. Especially relationships.”

“We’ll take it under advisement,” Fury finally announced, leveling himself to his feet. “We’ll be in touch.” With that he unplugged the camera and microphone feed, then turned to Coulson. “What do you think?”

“I don’t have any better ideas,” Coulson sighed heavily. “We’ve tried. Maybe it’s time we let Laura take a crack at her.”


	23. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the chapter snaffu in there. My numbering system got muddled and the computer ate the chapter I intended to post and I had to rewrite it and I've had some health issues since. Thanks for the patience and here's the chapter-for sure this time. Thanks for hanging in there.

“So what’s she like?”

Clint nearly jumped out of him skin. While the 45 minute flight from Chicago into Des Moines wasn’t long enough to get what might be considered some proper sleep he had been well on his way to a quick cat nap next to the assassin who had been silent (brooding he assumed although her face looked nothing more than politely disinterested) through two airports, three security checkpoints, and a three-hour layover. “Who?”

Natalia rolled her eyes. “Your wife.”

He still wasn’t sure what to make of the emphasis she put on that word. Was it sarcasm? Disgust? Confusion?

Which made it all the harder for him to figure out how to describe Laura. How did anyone describe a relationship that had started off as nothing more than a few stolen nights between missions and suddenly transformed into this larger-than-life, all-consuming corner of his world that suddenly occupied his thoughts every moment they weren’t carefully trained on a mission? How did you explain this sort of relationship to a cold-hearted assassin who had only the vaguest, possibly implanted memories of any sort of family at all? Who was suspicious of any kindness because she’d really only been shown pain and fear? Who constantly spat that love was weakness?

Should he start with Agent Laura Beddington? Describe the tough-as-nail Midwestern farm girl who had been out to prove she could be as good as any man, who took an obscene amount of joy in running new recruits ragged (literally running, the woman could sprint miles without being out of breath), who could shoot to kill to protect her agents one moment and make a hardened senior agent feel better with a pat on the arm the next? It seemed she would connect to that persona better, although Laura had become something very different in the last three years.

He had watched his wife eye the trees of the simple farm suspiciously, and then move forward to install the most high-tech, completely invisible security system around the perimeter complete with safe room in the basement. His first visit home he had made the mistake of sneaking up on her, intent on surprising her. He’d punched in his security code to prevent it alerting her and left his rental truck a few feet in the drive at the entrance to the little family cemetery to sneak to the house on foot. He’d shushed the farm dogs and crept up the porch steps to find her in the kitchen.

She’d been five months pregnant when she left HQ, barely showing. Four weeks later she was much bigger, working around a protruding stomach as she beat the tar out of whatever she was baking-bread he thought.

He’d carefully deposited his bag by the door and snuck in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close with the intention of kissing her neck.

Her palm had collided firmly with his nose, sending him sprawling backward in a spray of blood. Pressure on his shoulder made sure he went straight to the floor and she landed on top of him hard with her knee planted in his stomach and a butcher knife (when had she had time to grab that?) poised at his throat.

He’d barely managed to get out a nasal, “Hey honey, missed you too,” before she’d dissolved into a pile of mush apologizing all over and actually dissolving into tears when she saw the blood.

That story she’d probably like. But had still been three years ago. While he doubted Laura had lost her edge he was certain a fair amount of the agent remained.

And he didn’t know how to convey the warmth that had spread through his chest when his son was placed in his arms. How the weeks that followed, both of them lost and uncertain with this fragile, wailing human suddenly completely dependent on them had brought them closer together. From the outside he was certain it would have been fun to watch. Master spies and assassins running around in confused circles with a crying infant covered in slimy baby poop and vomit and, as the crying grew more hysterical, green snot flowing from its nose until it coughed and gurgled enough to bring tears to Laura’s eyes as she moaned that her baby was going to drown in snot and she had to be the worst mother in the world.

But the way they’d figured it out and come through. Through high fevers and lack of sleep and frayed nerves. Through the entire house smelling like sour milk and diapers and mystery stains on every one of his favorite shirts. The first time Cooper had tumbled down the stairs and come away screaming in rage with a large bump growing on his head (he had never loved Laura more than when she told him not to beat himself up, that these things were going to happen and he had to learn the hard way sometimes, and the look on her face when he’d returned the same sentiment to her when he heard her frantically screaming at Cooper to stop that and come out to find him clutching deer droppings while saying, “yummy blueberries” was well worth it). Being so glad to leave the farm for the relative calm and sanity of SHIELD missions but coming back to realize there was nowhere in the world he wanted to be more. The calm corner in the back of his mind that was a lazy afternoon on the farm, the way his heart skipped a beat every time he had leave long enough to get back there. His shock the first time he found his nose wrinkling as he turned away from a startling beautiful half-naked woman because she didn’t hold a candle to his wife. That had left his head spinning for weeks. He wasn’t that sort of guy. Until he suddenly was apparently.

He knew from experience what it was like, to not have any concept of the warmth and comfort of ‘home’ until he experienced it firsthand.

In the end, that decided him. If he tried to tell her any of this she couldn’t possibly understand. Words could never do it, and if she knew what to expect it would just put her on her guard.

In the end he shrugged and leaned against the window, closing his eyes. “She’s one of a kind.”

“She’d have to be to put up with you,” she snapped.

He shook his head at her. “See? I was going to tell you. Now I’m just going to let you sit there and wonder.”

***************************************

“Stay in the truck,” Clint ordered when he pulled up the gravel drive and put it in park.

He got out and opened the door, greeting the wagging dogs that ran to him yipping happily and nearly falling over themselves to get to him.

Trying not to trip over them he moved around to open her door. “Suddenly feeling gentlemanly?” she snarked as he unnecessarily helped her out of the cab.

“Not really,” he answered. “Farm dogs aren’t always friendly. If you’re standing next to me they know you’re okay. Let them sniff your hands,” he said as she tried to draw away from the clouds of golden and black hair coming off of the mismatched mutts as they fought to squeeze closer.

The sound of the screen door slamming against the jam made them both look up. Laura stood on the porch, feet bare, camouflage Army t-shirt and jeans worn through in the knees. Clint hurried away from the girl to catch his wife up, pulling her close as he spun her. She laughed and buried her nose in his neck, breathing in.

“Hey you,” he said when he set her back on her feet to pull back and look in her eyes.

“Hey,” she answered, grinning up at him. She reached up to fondly scratch at the back of his neck before turning to the girl.

Clint stayed there as she stepped down and across the grass, pressing the dogs gently out of the way. She held her hands out to Natalia, who relaxed herself away from the truck. She took Laura’s hands and let her pull her forward to kiss first one cheek, then the other. “Natalia,” she said with a marked Russian flavor. “Welcome to my home,” she continued in Natalia’s native tongue.

She blinked at the woman. Her plain brown hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, freckles barely visible under a healthy tan. She looked every inch the dull farm wife, nothing particularly remarkable about her.

Clint had removed his bags from the truck. He had a suitcase and a backpack, Natalia only a backpack.

Laura reached for the bag over Natalia’s shoulder, handing it to Clint. Natalia almost fought for it out of instinct as Laura said, “You are a guest. Guests don’t carry bags here. Clint does.”

Clint smiled agreeably, taking her bag and slinging it over his shoulder as well. “It’s light. You didn’t bring much.”

“I don’t have much,” she said.

“She needs a wardrobe,” Clint put in as they moved toward the house. “You can take her shopping.”

“That sounds fun,” Laura said brightly, leading her through a living room as dull as the woman herself and up a set of stairs. “I wasn’t sure where to put you. Where you would be most comfortable. I thought the front of the house, where you could keep an eye on the road, but then anyone decent wouldn’t exactly be staying to the road, and I decided the back bedroom because you should have the most privacy there.”

Natalia blinked at the thought that privacy would be a concern at all, let alone the main one, as Laura led her to the room with Clint trailing behind.

The room was…cozy, she supposed was the word. A few cabinets were scattered around the room. “Sorry, it’s usually my sewing room.” The bed frame was a simple twin, the bed made up with what appeared to be a handmade quilt. A pillow with a sunny yellow pillowcase lay on top, extra blankets folded over the foot of the bed. She wrinkled her nose at the furnishings. It looked like a picture out of a ‘Country Home’ magazine.

“I emptied the dresser, room for your stuff,” Laura said, pulling open a drawer to show it was empty. “Bathroom is right next door.” She looked around, as if searching for some forgotten item that would be important. Apparently everything passed muster because she shrugged and clapped her hands. “I’ll leave you to get settled in then.”

Natalia slipped the underwear into the dresser and looked out the window, wondering how long she was expected to stay there.

When she couldn’t take it anymore she snuck down the stairs.

Clint and Laura were in the kitchen. “Stop eating all the berries!” Laura scolded, pushing his hands away where he stood at the table.

“Because we don’t have enough?” he asked. “Raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, mulberries, peaches…”

“I don’t know what she likes,” Laura objected. “And if it happens to be mulberries I’d like her to get some. Maybe I would like some too.”

“Oh yeah?” Natalia’s nose wrinkled again as Clint drew close, turning Laura around and lifting her up onto the table. Laura gave him a look but she agreeably spread her legs to let him crowd close between them. He put one of the berries on his finger. “Tell you what, if you can get it, you can have it.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. 

“Mm hm,” he said, tracing her lips with the berry.

She shook her head at him, and the moment she opened her lips he took it back, popping it into his mouth with a pleased grin. When he repeated the exercise Laura grinned and leaned forward, bringing his lips down to hers. They kissed for several moments before Laura pulled back, chewing. “Cheater,” Clint objected.

“I never said I play fair,” she responded, kissing him shortly before pushing him back. “Now let me down before we embarrass the poor girl.”

“I don’t think she’ll be too picky,” Clint said, wandering toward the oven. “She ate whatever slop they put in front of her on base and you know how great their chow is.”

“You could say it’s about time she got a choice then.” She turned and saw him slipping the oven open. “Clint, it’s going to get cold if you keep opening it. You’re supposed to keep the heat INSIDE.”

“It is apple though isn’t it?”

“You will just have to wait to find out.” She used her hips to push him out of the way. “You know if we’d remodeled the kitchen like I wanted instead of destroying the living room we could get one of those fancy stoves that are less than thirty years old and have a light that turns on so you can see the food.”

“You like the living room like this. It really opened the place up and you can keep a better eye on Cooper.”

“There are times it might be nice if I had no idea what Cooper was doing. Especially when he’s throwing a fit.”

“He’s spoiled,” Clint said. “He needs a little brother to teach him the world doesn’t always revolve around him.”

“Oh, please let it be a girl,” Laura said with folded hands and upturned eyes. “The last thing I need in this house is ANOTHER boy.”

“It’s a good thing I brought you Natalia then,” he said with a grin, stealing another berry. Laura turned to snap the towel at him in retribution and he chuckled as he skipped out of the way.

She decided that was the right moment to make her presence known, straightening and stepping into the kitchen.

“There she is,” Laura said. “Now you can settle the burning question. Name your favorite kind of fruit.”

She paused, then shrugged. Laura cast a look at Clint, who gave her a grin, then back to the girl. “Seriously, name it.”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“We didn’t really eat a lot of fruit. We sort of focused on protein and carbs. Apples don’t really help you run ten miles or scale a tree.”

“They do if you end up with gout,” Laura muttered. “All right then, I guess now you get to find out.” She started laying bowls in front of her. “Taste test.”

She glanced down at them. “I don’t even know what some of these are.”

“Well I hope you know strawberries. And if you say no I’m making a pound cake tomorrow and we’ll have strawberry shortcake.”

“I know strawberries,” she said. She picked up the perfectly round one. “What are these?”

“Blueberries. There’s a whole thicket of them to the southwest. Lots of thorns but they’re worth it. I’ll have to make blueberry muffins some time.”

She bit one, chewing thoughtfully. “I think I knew a guy that made wine form these once.”

Laura groaned. “The only way the 16-year-old at our table knows berries is through alcoholic beverages.”

“What about these?” she asked. “They’re too small to be blackberries.”

“Mulberries. These were my favorite when I was a kid. They had this huge bush. I’d come home covered in purple juice. Drive my mother bonkers. They’re like blackberries but sweeter.”

She chewed, nodding her approval. “They’re good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Laura said. “We’ll get out some ice cream, you’ll love it. And some apple pie a la mode.”

“You did make apple pie!” Clint crowed.

“Honestly, when’s the last time I knew you were coming home that I didn’t make apple pie?” she asked with a pat to his cheek as she retrieved the pan from the oven.

“She makes the BEST apple pie,” Clint told Natalia as he sat next her, eagerly snatching up a fork. “You wouldn’t even BELIEVE how good it is.”

“It’s an old family recipe,” Laura offered. “And the apples are from the Tope orchard up the way.”

He watched her cut into the pie. “You’re not going to make me eat anything with protein in it first? Nothing green and/or leafy?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, since Cooper’s not here to catch us I think we can do desert as dinner just this once,” she said, putting a plate with a huge piece of pie including a large dollop of melting ice cream in front of Natalia. “Don’t let him steal any of that,” she ordered, Clint’s folk already halfway to her plate moments after Laura turned her back.

Natalia used her fork to block him almost instinctively, pulling the pie closer. By the time Laura turned back Clint was stretched halfway across the table while Natalia was curled protectively around the dish, teeth bared in a hiss.

Laura only laughed, grabbing Clint by the collar and hauling him back into his seat and setting a plate in front of him. “Eyes front, bird boy,” she said, returning to get herself a plate and sitting between them.


	24. Those Two

She came downstairs the next day to find Laura spread out on the couch. Laura glanced up as she entered the room, nodding before returning to the book propped on her chest. The sound of a power saw announced Clint was outside. 

Laura pulled up her legs to give Natalia room on the couch but the girl crouched on the floor next to the arm of the couch Laura’s head was propped on. She attentively closed the book around one finger. “What do you need Natalia?”

She bit her lip and looked away, her hands closing convulsively on her pants. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Laura’s.

Laura stayed perfectly still. She didn’t tense, didn’t freeze per se, but she didn’t do anything to encourage her either.

When she pulled away Laura shook her head at her. “Natalia…”

“I’m sorry,” she offered, looking down, blinking hard. “I didn’t mean to, I just…”

Laura reached out to take her chin in hand and bring her eyes up. “Stop it.” Natalia tilted her head questioningly. “I read your file. I’m a trained psychologist. I know what you’re doing. And don’t pretend to be nervous. There’s nowhere you’re more sure than seduction.” The girl crossed her arms and a pout settled over her lips. “And you’re not going to seduce me so that you can get in with Clint.” She reached out to pat her arm. “You don’t need to pay him back. He did it because he’s a good person, not to get something out of it.” She went back to her book. “Although if you do want to thank him becoming a kick-ass agent would be a good way.”

She waited for the girl to stomp up to her room before she went outside to sit on one of the sawhorses where Clint was hard at work. She waited until his fingers were not anywhere near a moving blade before she said, “So guess who just tried to kiss me.”

It was a good thing she waited because Clint choked. “What?”

“Remember how I said she wasn’t done trying to seduce you?” Laura shrugged. “Apparently she thought the best way to do this would be to peak my interest and maybe then she could get to you.”

Clint stopped to rub his head. “That’s an image that’s going to linger.”

Laura snorted. “She’s a child, Clint, and there’s no way-“

“I know, I know,” he broke in. “I’m just SAYING.” 

She shook her head, patting his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “You’re such a man.”

“You like that about me,” he pointed out.

“Some days.”

******************************************************

It only took two days for Natalia to come to the conclusion that the woman was completely insane.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Clint when he said she’d been an agent but she didn’t behave like one. Certainly not like one that had just let a dangerous assassin in the front door.

When Laura stirred in the morning it always woke Natalia, and she would go downstairs, help herself to the orange juice, grapefruit juice, lemonade, or whatever Laura had fresh-squeezed in the refrigerator. Laura had far too high an opinion of her ‘sun tea’ which she served cold (shouldn’t something with sun in the name be hot? Shouldn’t tea be served hot anyway?) and filled with lemons. If she wanted to drink something with lemons she was strongly in favor of Laura’s strawberry lemonade, although she hadn’t admitted that yet. Clint loved the tea and Laura poured herself a glass now and then (Clint wrinkling his nose as she added sugar).

She went for a run, circling the farm quickly. Laura took her down various gravel roads, pointed out farms, told her the names of the neighbors and what animals they had (everyone seemed to have chickens in addition to horses, goats, pigs, and of all things llamas Laura promised to introduce her to when the babies came along) or what crops they planted. Sometimes it included a list of the farm equipment they owned. For someone in hiding Natalia felt Laura was awfully friendly with these people but she seemed to take it for granted that the girl would know that was the way of things. Occasionally a pickup would drive by and they would always wave. When Laura didn’t offer a name Natalia would ask who that was and her indifferent ‘not sure’ startled her. “But they waved.”

Laura just laughed. “Sure, of course they did.”

If they happened upon anyone on horseback or standing at the end of their drive retrieving the mail it was always an extra hour spent gossiping. Natalia was always introduced as a distant cousin there for a visit.

When they returned this morning Clint had been sitting on the porch waiting for them, asking Natalia to come help with something in the barn that needed an extra set of hands. It was quick and easy enough, and she came back to find Laura sound asleep on the couch. Natalia stood, looking at her napping with one arm thrown up over her head, legs akimbo. There were a million ways she could kill her like this. Every major artery exposed. The kitchen knives ten steps away. Pillows that could easily be pressed to her face everywhere. The string from the blinds hanging within easy reach.

It might be doing Clint a favor. Freeing him up. This woman was a liability, was holding him back. He would be a much better agent if he didn’t have to worry about her.

Suddenly she realized Laura’s eyes were open, studying her shrewdly. When Natalia jumped she smiled. “Did you find them all?”

“All what?” Natalia snapped.

Laura yawned and stretched. “Ways you could kill me.” Conversationally, as if she were asking if Natalia thought it would rain. “I’m not scared of you, little girl.”

“You should be.”

She shrugged. “You’d have to be fast and quiet,” Laura said. “Or else Clint would get wise. And believe me, there are way worse ways to go.” She closed her eyes. “Besides, Clint would know, and be pissed, and then you would have SHIELD to deal with. I’m definitely not worth it. They wouldn’t put up with that shit.”

She turned and ran up the stairs. Laura shook her head and got off the couch to go weed the garden, very aware that Natalia was watching her from the window.

The wind picked up while she was out there. She had to go in to get an elastic band to put her hair back. She’d intended to keep on until it started to rain but it got so dark the light in the yard turned on and the dogs were taking shelter on the porch, whining at her.

She glanced up at the heavy grey clouds, noting the swirling motion to them before she gathered the weeds and took them to the compost pile. She stuck her head into the barn to warn Clint, who brushed her off as she hit the lights. “Not good for your eyes to work in the dark,” she groused, kissing his cheek as he snorted. “You should come up to the house. Once this starts it’s going to pour. You’re either going to get wet or be late for lunch.”

He made a noncommittal sound and she contented herself running her hands over the hair at the nape of his neck before stepping over the lounging barn cat to head back to the house.

She glanced up at the clouds again as she wandered across the yard, grinning at the rumble of thunder in the distance.

She went upstairs to find Natalia on the bed with a book in hand. “How do you feel about thunder storms?”

“What?” she snapped.

“Thunder storms. We have a nice one rolling in. I love them.” Natalia looked at her like she was nuts. “All right. Well it’s been warm so there’s a chance it could turn into a tornado, although this looks too heavy to turn into that. I’m going to sit on the porch and watch some, I’ll keep an ear out for the radio. If we need to go to the basement I’ll holler.” She turned and left the room without waiting for a response.

She didn’t see Natalia scoot off the bed to stare out the window, the curtains snapping around her as the wind picked up and as it grew unnaturally dark. In the middle of the country, so far away from streetlights the moon and stars cast so much light it was never this dark even in the middle of the night.

Every animal took shelter. The chickens were in the henhouse, no birds fought the wind. Even the insects, usually raising a chorus at night as much as during the day (“It’s so LOUD here,” she’d complained to Clint after the first night. “I thought the country was supposed to be quite.”).

Suddenly the wind dropped. While lightning still flashed on the horizon without the wind to carry the sound it was far more quiet.

Natalia hurried down the stairs, stopping at the door to look out.

The barn door was still open, and she could see Clint’s shadow moving around on the hay-strewn floor. Laura sat on the porch swing, lazily rocking with one foot on the floor, the other tucked under her. The dogs were arrayed around her feet, eyeing the sky.

“Calm before the storm,” Laura said, turning to look at her. “Come on out and watch.”

“Is this…normal?”

“Sure. It will break in a minute.” She patted the porch swing next to her. “This is one of the first things I asked Clint to do for me. I love porch swings. I got it from the Jeffersons up the way. It was in rough shape but he reinforced it a little. I painted it. Then he had to tear down the porch ceiling to reinforce that.” She rolled her eyes. “One of the few things I asked for that he actually did. If you see a way to get him to finish the attic so I can have my sewing room up there I would be eternally grateful.”

“Why hasn’t he done it?”

Laura wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure if it’s because he’s more excited if it was his idea, or he just likes destruction. He seems to really enjoy tearing apart my house. Then of course there’s an emergency and he runs off and I’m left to steer a toddler around a construction zone for six months. Or there’s a gaping hole in the side of the house in December. That first winter I was scared to death that Cooper was going to freeze. The heater was on its last legs and was out more than it worked, and never caught up. I had three space heaters in his room and I’d just hold him close and wrap us in blankets. I’d rock and rock and apologize. I felt like the worst mother in the world.” She chuckled.

“You didn’t just call him and tell him to get back here?”

She shook her head. “Things were bad in Sokovia right then. It was a huge mess and he was embedded. He didn’t even know until Coulson gave him leave in April how bad it had been.” She grinned. “He was tripping over himself getting me the biggest, most efficient heater money could buy. Which was good because the next winter we got a ton of ice and snow. Seemed like every other week the power went out and we were using the generator again. I’m not sure how there was any gas left in our tank. I think we had ten gallons to spare when the tanker finally managed to get out here. I was about to go borrow the Runges’ big tractor with the blade and just carve a path to the highway.”

“Sounds a lot like Russia.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it is. My relatives came here from Norway and felt right at home in the winter.” She glanced around the field. “Have you ever been to Norway?”

“I don’t think so.” Her brows wrinkled as she thought. “Maybe.”

“It’s very rocky. I imagine this must have looked like heaven to them. Farmers. Flat land all the way to the horizon. Because of the creek we have the trees but you get away from it and it’s farmer’s paradise. The dirt’s so healthy, so anxious to grow whatever you plant in it.” She smiled and suddenly a breeze reached them. You could hear the rain coming, the pattering starting at a distance, you could actually see it roll toward them in a sheet. Laura grinned and lifted her face, the first breeze blowing a mist into the porch to cover them. She sighed heavily, opening her eyes as lightning forked overhead and the loud crack and rumble reached them. Natalia didn’t jump but her back did stiffen.

“Maybe we’ll wait until tomorrow to go shopping,” she said as the rain came down like a bucket upended over the house. She glanced over and grinned at Clint, standing in the barn door. Laura raised a hand to wave. “I told him to come in or else he’d be stuck out there.” He flipped her off and turned to return to the barn. Laura shook her head and laughed.

Suddenly there was a flash of light. Before her vision had cleared Natalia felt hands clap hard over her ears. She was moving to respond to the sudden attack when the sound hit them with a concussive. She could have sworn she got a shock from the chain of the swing as she reached up to grab it.

Laura removed her hands, shaking her head a bit. “Sorry.”

“What was THAT?”

“Lightning hit the house,” Laura said. “It happens. Caught the lightning rod, which is grounded, but still.” She stood with a sigh. “We should go check the electronics, make sure nothing shorted out. If I’m lucky the stove will finally bite the dust,” she murmured under her breath.

They spent an oddly cozy afternoon. After checking all of the electronics in the house Laura set out lunch, cutting into a homemade loaf of bread and retrieving some shaved ham and turkey from the fridge. Cutting up tomatoes she washed the lettuce and was just getting out the mayonnaise and mustard when Clint stepped in the door, water pooling around him.

“Clint!” Laura cried, grabbing one of the kitchen towels and setting about rubbing him dry. “You’d think you were raised in a barn.”

“Circus,” he corrected, attempting to pinch her as she went around him catching the worst of the rain.

Finally with an exasperated sigh she pulled his jacket off and lay it over a chair. “Shoes off,” she ordered.

He toed them off and left them in a muddy heap by the door, moving over to the counter to begin constructing a sandwich. Laura looked at his socks, big toe protruding through one and heal bare on the floor on the other. “Do you ever throw anything away? You have perfectly good socks.”

“These are fine,” he objected, opening the jar and dipping his finger in.

“Use a knife,” she ordered, handing him a butter knife. “And go easy on the mayo. It isn’t good for you.”

“Everything that tastes good isn’t good for me,” he objected.

“I didn’t say you can’t have any, just go easy on it,” she said, shaking her head. “I seem to recall you being a lot more civilized at work.”

“I have to be on good behavior there,” he said around a mouth full of sandwich. “They could fire me. You’re stuck with me. You took a vow. I have witnesses.”

“Only because you knocked me up,” she shot back, laying a kiss on his cheek as she pushed him out of the way.

“Takes two to tango there missy. The medication was your department.”

“Actually it was SHIELD’s department,” she grumbled.

“Well they lost one of their best agents so they got theirs.”

“Come eat, Natalia, before Clint inhales it all,” Laura ordered.


	25. Watership Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to offer everyone a major apology. Things have been difficult personally lately. 
> 
> About a month ago we found my elderly grandmother at the bottom of her basement stairs and rushed her to the ER with several fractures and a head injury.
> 
> She's always been very healthy and the doctors said she didn't need surgery so we sort of settled in to get her through rehab and back home. Unfortunately she suddenly went downhill quickly.
> 
> We buried her several weeks ago and a lot of free time has been spent going through her house to try to get it on the market and sold before the snow flies, but it's been a slow and exhausting process.
> 
> Please know that I appreciate all of you, and you hanging in there. The number of kudos and hits always floor me. Please don't feel unappreciated, and it's wonderful how many of you are hanging in there. Things may be slow for a bit but I will continue to update. 
> 
> Thanks to all of you. Gives me some good feels I could use at the moment. Much appreciated. Don't ever doubt that.

Clint went upstairs, ostensibly to check for damage from the lightning strike, but Laura was dancing around the kitchen humming, “Sewing room,” under her breath.

With nothing else to do Natalia stretched out on living room floor and began going through her routine. Half ballet poses, half yoga, with a good sprinkling of marshal arts, she was used to people taking an interest so she really only half noticed Laura watching her. After a while she opened a closet and returned with two yoga mats. “This could make things easier,” she offered.

When Natalia stepped onto it Laura rolled hers out right next to it and started to follow. She was moderately impressed with the older woman’s ability to keep up, and she kept it simple until she was confident that Laura had warmed up before she started pushing into the harder poses.

She wasn’t surprised that the yoga came easily to Laura, and her fighting style made Natalia itch to ask her to spar, although there wouldn’t really be any contest there. She’d intended to ask Clint but he was keeping busy. Even a slow clumsy partner would be better than just going through the motions herself.

Her first hint that Laura knew more dance than Natalia had bargained for revealed themselves slowly. She was a little too straight on her positions, even her head sitting in exactly the right angle as her arms moved.

Watching carefully out of the corner of her eye Natalia made a fluid step off the mat and up into pointe. Laura followed, holding it a few seconds before falling out of it with a laugh. Natalia let herself down, watching her wipe sweat off her face. “Haven’t done that in a while,” she sighed.

“You did ballet?” Natalia asked.

Laura nodded, collapsing onto the ground and stretching. “Growing up I was completely obsessed with it. I lived at that studio in High School. I minored in dance in college, sort of fell out of it, although in the summer I like to teach at the local studio. Cooper loves the tumbling classes, which makes Clint happy of course. He keeps threatening to take him to the circus, have some ‘real acrobats’ teach him.” She stood and went to the shelf, pulling down photo album and paging through. “Here we go.” She offered it to Natalia. A smiling girl, bun dutifully piled on top of her head, standard white leotard and pink skirt, up on point stared back. “I think I was sixteen there. Same age as you now.” She regarded Natalia. “I have some pointe shoes if you would like. I think they would fit you. The floor’s all wrong but…” She shrugged apologetically. “We could stop by the studio after we go shopping tomorrow if you would like. I’m sure they would have some shoes that would fit you.”

“I’ll…consider it,” she said.

Laura rolled up the mat, announced her intention to take a bath or a nap, and disappeared upstairs. Clint wandered down a while later and when Natalia told him where his wife had gone he disappeared after her. Natalia settled for poking around the living room, studying the photo albums although they all seemed to have the same boring photos of children in party hats with birthday cakes and sitting on horses.

Finding an incredibly battered copy of a book called, “Watership Down” with a picture of a rabbit on it she settled on the couch, startled to find the book was actually about rabbits. Curious what could catch Laura’s attention (Clint wasn’t a big reader) enough to put the book in such bad shape she continued to turn the pages.

Clint returned a few hours later. He went to the refrigerator and came to sit next to her on the couch eating something straight out of the glass jar. He craned his neck to see what she was reading. “That’s one of Laura’s favorites,” he said. “What’s it about?”

“Rabbits.”

He paused, chewing. “Really?”

“Really.” She looked up at him. “Well, more than that. I mean, it’s sort of social commentary. But by way of rabbits.”

Clint shook his head and turned on the TV. “If you say so.”


	26. Something New

After the run and a heaping breakfast of eggs and bacon (fixed by Laura) and pancakes with berries and chocolate chips and gummy bears in it (fixed by Clint) Laura trundled Natalia into the car and headed into town for shopping.

“So, what do you like?” Laura asked as they headed into the heavily air conditioned store. Natalia shrugged. “Seriously,” Laura added.

“Seriously, don’t know,” Natalia said.

Laura opened her mouth, then stopped. “You don’t usually get to pick.” Natalia shrugged and nodded. “Okay, start simple. Favorite color.” Natalia shrugged again. “Seriously, you have to have a favorite color. What do you like?”

“Black?” she offered.

Laura sighed. “Well we have to be careful with your hair. Most reds and oranges are going to be out.” She led her over to a display of brightly colored t-shirts. “Which one do you like best?” Sensing that another shrug would be the wrong answer she grabbed at random, handing Laura an obnoxiously bright yellow shirt. Laura looked at it. “Really?” Natalia shrugged and grabbed a black one.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Laura announced, putting them back. “Let’s try this.” She led her over to a rack of clothes. “What do you think of this?” she asked, holding up a blouse.

Natalia shrugged. “It looks like Rose.”

“Who’s Rose?”

“One of my covers.”

“Well you aren’t Rose.” She returned the shirt, picked up another one. “How about this?”

“Yvanna.”

Laura sighed. “Okay. Well what looks like Natalia?”

She shrugged. “I just wore my uniform, really.”

“Okay. Process of elimination. What doesn’t look like any of your covers?” Natalia walked across the aisle and picked up a baby onsie and Laura dropped her head into her hands. “In the Junior’s or Women’s departments, please,” she sighed, steering Natalia back across the aisle by the shoulders.

Natalia picked up a few truly hideous things that even her most addle-brained covers wouldn’t have gone near, but Laura dismissed them quickly. “How about this? Which cover did you like the best?” Natalia considered. “Or which is closest to you? Or which is the closest to the person you’d like to be?”

Natalia blinked at the woman. “Those are three different questions.”

“Which comes the closest to all three?”

Natalia considered. “You’d like Natalie.”

“Tell me about her?”

“She was all business. Very buttoned up. But she didn’t take shit from anyone.”

“What would she wear when she wasn’t conducting business?” Laura asked. “When she was just hanging out at home, or with friends for the weekend?”

Natalia browsed, picking up a few things, but Laura seemed unsatisfied. She insisted that they get three pair of jeans next. She let the girl have exactly five minutes in the workout wear section, picking out plain black yoga pants and shirts. She gave her fifteen in the underwear because that was harder. Much harder for Natalia, who was suddenly uncertain. What is she supposed to get? More workout wear? Plain white boring things that do the job? The lacey bejeweled pieces she could use to bring a man to his knees?

She got some of each because her instinct is always to be prepared. Laura didn’t comment on any of it, moving her back to the Junior’s section.

“How do you feel about lace?” Laura asked, holding up a shirt.

“I’m not a child,” Natalia snarked.

“I don’t think anyone would mistake me for a child,” Laura said flippantly, “but I like lace.” Natalia narrowed her eyes. “Well, I like it all right. Clint LOVES it.”

“Really?” Natalia asked.

“Yep. Sequins no, lace yes. I like it in the summer. Keeps you cool on these sticky days.”

“Does that mean jewelry’s out?” she asked.

“Jewelry is out on my account,” Laura said. “I’m too active. It just gets in the way. Especially when I’m cooking.”

****  
A small sound woke Natalia. She had no idea what it was or where it had come from. Gripping her knife in one hand and gun in the other she carefully opened the door she’d left cracked open. She heard it again, down the hall, a quick indrawn breath.

Sticking to the side of the hall where the boards were less likely to squeak she crept slowly down the hall.

The master bedroom’s door was open a crack as well, only moonlight emerging from the room. It was across from the stairs so she ducked behind the railing, shifting to see through the crack.

Laura was laying on the bed on her back, her head thrown back as she gasped for breath, obviously trying to be quiet. Natalia shifted, found Clint curled at the foot of the bed, his head….

Oh.

Buried between his wife’s legs.

Well she might have expected this. Married couple, sickly sweet, had been apart for a while. She was at least partially to blame for that, probably.

She had heard of this, of course. She was fully trained in all aspects, and had a good three years of experience besides, mostly in seduction. But she’d never run across a man particularly interested in this activity.

And judging by the sounds Laura was trying to mute, he was fairly enthusiastic about it.

“Clint,” Laura whispered. He raised his head to look at her, her hands running firmly over his face. “Come here,” she whispered. “I want you.”

“You got it baby,” he whispered, his hand remaining firmly in place as he dipped to kiss her belly button, her stomach, her breast, the hollow of her throat. She sighed as he hovered over her, his other arm carefully keeping his weight off of her, eyes locked.

“Hey you,” she whispered to him.

“Hey sweety,” he said with a grin.

“God I missed you,” she whispered.

“All of me,” he chuckled, “or just this?”

Her eyelids fluttered as he pressed his hips forward, but she shook her head. “All of you.” She licked her lips. "But also that."

He sighed, resting his forehead on hers. “God I love you Laura.”

“I love you too,” she said. “So much.”

Natalia knew she should sneak back to her bed. This shouldn’t be anything new. She’d seen plenty of sex, been party to plenty of it too. 

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different here. Something about the way her hands traced his arms, the way he supported his weight, the look in their eyes. This wasn’t just sex. Wasn’t just good sex. This she had never seen, something she’d heard of but never believed in. It was…

She absolutely refused to even think the word as she slunk away, but it rattled in her brain as she pressed the door shut and curled up under the quilt.

*****

She went running with Laura the next morning. When they came back Laura shrewdly eyed the coffee pot and said, “Clint’s up.”

“Where is he?” Natalia asked.

Laura raised an eyebrow at her usually silent companion, then shrugged. “If he’s smart, he’s in the barn fixing that chair.”

She went out to the barn, sneaking in through the hay loft to watch him for a while. “I know you’re up there,” he threw over his shoulder. “I really can’t be that interesting.”

Natalia hopped down. He didn’t turn so she took a seat. “I heard you last night.”

“I know,” he said.

“I heard a noise.”

“Figured.”

“It was Laura.”

His lips quirked. “She’d be disappointed. She was trying so hard to keep quiet.”

“She’s a screamer?”

Clint tilted his head. “More of a moaner.”

“And what are you?”

“Completely caught up in my wife.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“You're not...upset?"

He shrugged. “I grew up in the circus. Privacy is something I’m used to going without.” He turned to look at her, leaning against the bench while he wiped glue off his hands onto a red cloth. “Why don’t you ask what you came here to ask?”

“Ask?”

He shrugged. “Why’d you come here? Why bring it up?” She shifted slightly. She’d wanted to embarrass him but she wasn’t willing to admit that, any more than she was willing to admit that part of her was pleased that he’d seen her and wasn’t fazed by it. “You were confused,” he offered.

“What? No. Why would I be confused?”

He shook his head. “You saw something new last night.” A shiver ran up her spine. “It’s okay. It freaked me out the first time I experienced it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know the word. You assumed it was a myth. So did I.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she spit at him.

“I had a lot of words for it. Sex, fucking. You probably have a lot more in a lot of different languages. I thought people who called it ‘making love’ were writing romance novels or deluding themselves.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You saw something different last night. Something more and deeper. That you didn’t think existed.” She shifted on the seat, refusing to look at him. “And that’s scary. Because if it exists maybe you could have it.” 

One moment she was there, and the next she was gone like a streak out the barn door. He sighed, looking at where she’d just sat, shaking his head.

Laura came out a few hours later with muffins still warm from the oven. “Where’s Natalia?” she asked.

“She’s not in the house?”

“I thought she was out here.”

“She was,” Clint hedged.

Of course Laura pounced on it. “And then?”

“She sort of ran away.”

Laura sighed. “Were you pushing her?”

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Clint?”

“I didn’t THINK I was.”

“And yet she ran away?”

“Yes.”

“Like a scared a lamb.”

“Yes.”

“Like I told you she would if you pushed.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Laura sighed, sitting on the counter and helping herself to one of the muffins. “I thought she went to the house.” Laura nodded. “So what should we do?”

Laura shrugged. “Wait for her to decide to come back.”

“You think she will?”

Laura nodded. “Pretty sure. Iowa is big. I’m not saying she couldn’t make her way if she wanted to, but I have the feeling she’ll be back.”

“Really? Just like that?”

Laura played with the paper on the muffin. “When I was little a dog we’d had about 9 months got lose. My mom said if he belongs with us he’ll be back.”

“And?”

“He was sitting outside the door when we got home, waiting for us.”

“She isn’t a pound puppy.”

Laura smiled. “Take it from a psychiatrist, it isn’t that different. If we’ve gotten through to her, if she really believes she can have a place here, she’ll be back.”

Laura stayed in the barn, chatting away about the gossip with the neighbors Clint had missed that she hadn’t wanted to bore Natalia with.

A few hours later they went into the house and Natalia was in the overstuffed chair in the corner with a copy of one of Laura’s Harry Potter books (probably the second most battered book in the house).

No one said anything. Clint built a fire in the fireplace in the living room, got a beer, and curled up on the couch to watch a movie Natalia ignored completely.


	27. Baptism

Clint was in the circus, far up on the high wire. He dreamt this a lot. He spent a lot of time on roofs but it wasn’t the same as flitting around on the trapeze swings and high wires. To tell the truth he missed it.

He slipped suddenly. There was something on the wire, he realized as he snatched at it. He wrapped his arms and legs around it and managed to hold on. Hooking his knee and elbow around the wire he looked down at his left hand, flexing it. There was a familiar warm stickiness on it. Blood. There was only one thing that thick and warm and slick. It was congealing but still fresh. He hung down by his knees, stretching. Nothing hurt. He patted himself down, then looked up into the bowels of the tent. It had to be above him.

He saw her then. Laura. She hung limply there, supported by some kind of harness. She didn’t seem in danger of falling, but there was blood dripping down her limp feet. He blinked, forcing his eyes to focus. There was no obvious wound. She seemed to be bleeding from below.

His heart stuttered. The baby.

It shocked him awake, although he stayed still. Laura was curled on his chest, breathing deeply in and out. The crickets hummed outside. The moon made a line of bright light across the floor.  
He shifted, trying to figure out how to slip out from under her without waking her when he felt it. Warm, slick liquid thick on his fingers.

“Laura.” He shifted her off as carefully as he could, throwing the blanket off of her. She groaned, trying to burrow into the warm spot he had left. He hit the light. “Laura!” She blinked sleepily up at him, her legs slipping against the blood on the light sheets. Her eyebrows drew together and she looked down. “Stay there,” he ordered when she sat up.

“Clint,” Laura said.

“It’s all right. I’ll carry you down. I can have you to the hospital in ten minutes.”

“Clint, calm down,” Laura said.

“I’m calm,” he insisted, nearly colliding with Natalia in the doorway. He didn’t say anything, pushing past her.

“What’s going on?” the teenager asked, stiffening at the sight of the blood. Her hand twitched and Laura could see her wishing she had grabbed her knife.

“I was pregnant,” Laura said, putting a hand on her stomach as she looked at the blood.

“I noticed,” Natalia said. “You’ve got a bump, and you’ve been sloppy with the yoga.”

“My center of balance is-was-changing.”

“You think…?” Natalia trailed off.

“I just lost it.” She reached toward the blood, then drew back with a shiver.

Clint bustled back into the room. “Should I call for an ambulance?” Natalia asked.

Clint shook his head, leaning to slip his arms under Laura. “I can get her there faster. I pulled the truck up to the door. Let me carry you down there.”

“Clint,” she tried to object but he lifted her into his arms, blood dripping down his boxers as he hurried her out the door.

“Natalia, grab him a shirt,” Laura called. “And some shoes. By the bed.”

Natalia hurried to do as she asked, scrambling down the stairs, following the trail of blood out the screen door.

“I should get a towel,” Laura objected. “The seats.”

“Forget the fucking seats!” Clint ground out.

“Clint, it’s done. Me walking or getting a towel isn’t going to change-“

He slammed the truck door in her face. With a sigh she reached out the window that was already down to take the items. “Thank you Natalia,” she said as Clint jumped into the driver’s seat. “We’ll be back soon. I’m sorry to leave you like this.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she insisted. “Just, drive fast Clint.”

With a nod he jammed the truck into reverse and Natalia had to step back to avoid the spray of gravel.

She went upstairs, following the trail of lights into the bedroom. The blood was an ugly pool in the middle of the bed, still a fresh vibrant red. 

She only paused for a moment before she stripped every bit of bedding with red on it and dumped it into the bathtub.

Natalia was an expert at removing blood. She filled the bathtub with a small amount of cold water to keep the sheets from drying. She filled a bucket with water and went to the barn for some of Clint’s clean rags that were already red. She managed to blot most of the blood out of the mattress. She went back and rinsed the sheets until the stains came out, then dumped them into the washing machine. Then she went over the floor where the blood had dripped, scrubbing the blood that had dried by then. She went to the linen closet and made up Clint and Laura’s bed with sheets the most comforting shade of lavender she could find. Pacing with nothing to do but watch the sun light up the eastern sky she got out a toothpick and worked the blood that had dripped in between the floor boards. She went out to the driveway and pulled up the grass that had bloodstains on it, imagined or not, and threw it into the container out back. She found a few blood splatters on the gravel and gathered the rocks in her hand, running them under the hose until the red disappeared, then rinsed down the grass just to be sure.

She forced herself to curl up on the couch, sitting still instead of pacing. She didn’t even bother to try to read the book again. There was a blanket on the back of the couch. With the fireplace long grown cold and the fall coming in there was a chill in the air. If Clint wanted to fix something so badly he should get some insulation in these thin walls, she thought as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. It smelled like Laura.

She meant to get up and check to make sure there was something freshly squeezed in the fridge. She doubted Laura would be up for a run but she would probably be thirsty. As soon as her feet were warm.

Sleep snuck up on her, and only let her go when the screen door slammed. She jumped up, turning to watch Laura and Clint walk in.

“You’re back already?” she asked.

“They wanted to keep Laura. She insisted on signing herself out.” Clint glared at his wife as he threw the keys carelessly onto the table. They skidded across the counter, coming to rest against a vase of flowers Laura had set there the afternoon before.

“I’m fine,” Laura said. “There isn’t any more they can do.”

“You’re still bleeding.”

“I have it to spare.” She turned and walked up the stairs only a bit stiffly.

“Is she all right?” Natalia asked.

Clint sighed and shrugged, collapsing into a chair. “She’s the brilliant psychologist.”

“That sounds like you don’t think she is.”

Clint shook his head. “She’s not. But she’s pretending she is. And there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Nothing?”

“She’ll open up eventually.”

“The…child?”

“No child,” he said, grabbing the salt shaker and pushing it across the table so it bumped the pepper. “The baby is gone.” He stood and made for the door. “I’ll be in the barn.”

Natalia had no idea what to do. It was a new sensation. She hadn’t felt it in years.

With no idea what else to do she went upstairs to make sure Laura was all right.

She wasn’t in the bedroom, so Natalia went looking.

She was sitting in her son's room, in a rocking chair. She’d been talking about painting it. She was sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, staring blankly out the window with a stuffed lamb in her lap, petting it.

“I’m…sorry?” Natalia offered, unwilling to pass the doorway.

Laura looked up, blinking at the teen’s sudden presence. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of this. You’re a guest. The last thing you should be doing is cleaning up someone else’s mess.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” she said.

“What would you call it?” Laura asked. She opened her arms. “It’s my fault right? I decided to get pregnant.”

“That doesn’t mean you could help this.”

“Maybe.” Laura stroked the lamb, rocking. “Maybe I should have known better.”

“What does that mean?” Natalia asked.

“I’m rounding 35 on my way to 40. Well past prime childbearing years.”

Natalia blinked. “Did they say you can’t have more?”

“No,” Laura said. “Just the opposite.”

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“Clint thinks so.”

“You’re not so sure?”

She smiled up at her. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this, Natalia.”

“Don’t call me that!” She blinked at confusion as the words came out of her mouth.

Laura didn’t seem the least bit startled, just tilted her head. “Why not?”

“It’s what….THEY called me. You shouldn’t…and I’m not….I don’t want to be…” She groped for the words to explain.

“That person any more. You don’t want to be what they made you,” Laura finished for her.

The girl nodded because she knew she couldn’t say the words. 

“What do you want me to call you then? I’m certainly not just going to start saying ‘Hey you’ every time I want your attention.”

“I don’t…know,” she admitted.

“Something close or completely different?” Laura queried. She shrugged as Laura studied her. “What about just a straight Americanization? Natasha.”

She rolled that around in her head slowly, then nodded. “We could try it.”

“Last name too?” Laura asked, leveling herself to her feel. “Natasha Romanoff. How does that sound?”

She repeated it. It felt crisp and sweet on her tongue. Something fresh and clean. Like Laura’s berries, cool from the water she washed them in. She nodded.

Laura picked up the glass of water that the girl recognized from the bathroom. She dipped her fingers and flicked the water into the girl’s face. “I baptize you Natasha Romanoff,” she said. “May Natalia Romanova rest in peace.” She wrapped an arm around the girl pulling her close.

She stiffened at first, unfamiliar with the movement, but Laura held on, and Natasha saw tears on Laura’s cheeks, and she forced herself to relax and put her arms around the woman. “Thank you,” Laura whispered.

“For what?” she asked.

Laura pulled back, brushing at the moisture on her cheeks. “Here I am moping, thinking we lost someone.” She put her hands on either side of Natasha’s face, looking her in the eye. “And you just let something new be born.”

Natasha shifted a bit under her gaze. “Maybe…do you want me to go get Clint?”

“No,” Laura sighed. “He’ll be here for me. He just needs to spend some time on his own getting his head on straight.” She smiled up at her. “Typical man. Emotions scares the pants off of him. He has to work up his courage before he can face it.” She yawned hugely. “I suppose I should lay down for a bit.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” the teen asked, trailing after her into the bedroom. She nodded. “Are you okay…physically? You’re not in danger? Maybe someone should be watching you in case?”

Laura shook her head. “I’m fine. There’s still a little bleeding but it isn’t like it’s coming out of my system. The body had been storing it up.” She stopped in the doorway, taking in the fresh sheets. “Oh, Natal-asha,” she caught herself when she saw the freshly made bed.

“I…there wasn’t anything else to do.”

She looked down behind her. “Did you scrub the floor?”

Natasha shrugged again. “I couldn’t sleep. There wasn’t anything else to do.”

“You’re a guest. You shouldn’t be cleaning.”

“I know how to handle blood.”

“Thank you,” she said, putting her arms around her again. Natasha wrinkled her nose but stayed there. “You’re a doll. I don’t care what anyone says.” She sighed, scrubbing at her red eyes. “Yes, I need to lay down. Thank you, Natasha.”

Clint came in three hours later, sniffing around for lunch as much as anything, and found his wife sound asleep on lavender sheets with the teen perched in the bay window seat holding a book, keeping careful watch over the woman.

Clint came over to her, keeping an eye on Laura. “What’s up?”

Natasha shrugged. “Reading.”

“Is everything all right?” Natasha hesitated, looking out the window and Clint tensed. “What’s wrong?”

“She lost the baby,” Natasha said.

“I know.”

Natasha looked up at him and her voice dropped more. “She’s afraid she can’t have any more.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Clint said, glancing at the woman. “The doctor assured her there’s no reason to think that.”

“She thinks she’s too old.”

Clint snorted. “She’s not. And even if she was, we have Cooper. I’m not going anywhere.” He paused. “She knows that right?”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s just…it means something. To a woman.”

“Sure,” he said. “Sure it does, but…” He nodded. “I’ll make sure she knows.”

“She kept hugging me,” Natasha said.

He laughed at that. “Yeah, that’s Laura.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Laura asked, sitting up the bed.

“Always,” Clint said, coming over to lay next to her on the bed, putting an arm around her. Her eyes slowly blinked open, and pressed her hair behind her ears, kissing her nose. “How are you? Sounds like Natalia has been taking care of you.”

“She’s Natasha now.”

“What?”

“She’s Natasha Romanoff now. She decided.”

“Oh.” Clint blinked at her. “Is this some crisis of identity or-“

Laura rubbed is arm. “It’s a good thing,” she whispered. “She’s someone different now. She’s leaving that damaged little girl behind. She gets to be someone better now.”

“She baptized me,” the girl said.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” Clint said.

“It was pretty unofficial,” Laura said. “But you shouldn’t doubt me.” She lay her head on Clint’s shoulder. “We gained something big today, Clint. Maybe not a daughter. I don’t know yet. But she’s really something.”

“She is that,” Clint agreed.

Laura closed her eyes. “I’d like to ask my mom to bring Cooper back tomorrow.”

Natasha looked up at the couple. “You think that’s a good idea?” Clint asked. “I can understand you want him close, but I’m not sure Natal-asha-Nat is ready for that?”

“She isn’t going to hurt him,” Laura said. “She’s a lot of things but uncontrolled is DEFINITELY not one of them. And she wouldn’t hurt our baby on purpose. So yes, it’s going to be fine.”

“You’re the expert,” he said agreeably. “I certainly wouldn’t object to seeing the munchkin again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the major delay. My bad luck continues. The little bit of mold in my basement lead to removal of a lot of drywall. Mildew issues and major foundation problems lead to a very expensive remodeling, bracing, and waterproofing project. I (a 35-year-old, 115 lb woman) removed every bit of drywall and every stud in my mostly-finished basement. My construction-working father said it would take 3 guys working 40-hour weeks 3 weeks to do it. I did it in 2 while working 48 hours per week at my two jobs.  
> So I finally found time to update. I'm continuing to work on this as promised.


	28. Settled in

“Mommy mommy mommy!” the blond boy pumped his short little legs, dashing the moment his grandmother had him out of the car seat toward Laura. She rushed down the porch steps, opening her arms to catch the little boy who tripped and sprawled headlong into her grip.

She caught him up, spinning him and pulling him close. “There’s my wonderful little boy!” she crowed.

He kissed her cheek, his tiny arms circling her neck and squeezing tight.

He looked up, catching sight of Clint on the porch. “Daddy!” he burst out, holding his arms out to him.

“Hey buddy,” Clint said, stepping down to take his hand.

Laura’s mother, who did not resemble the woman in the least, came over to them. “I’m glad you called. He’s been missing you something awful.”

Laura looked up at the woman as she handed the boy off to his father. “And not sleeping through the night I take it.”

The woman nodded around a yawn. “Two, usually three times per night.”

“Oh, Cooper,” she cooed. “Were you giving grandma a hard time?”

“Her house is scary,” the little boy said.

“You should have seen it when her husband lived there,” Laura muttered.

The woman looked up at the teen on the porch. “Who’s that?”

Laura turned to look. “Friend of Clint’s, from work. She needed some down time. Her name is Natasha.”

“She looks like she’s twelve.”

“She’s exactly as old as she’s supposed to be,” Laura replied, watching Clint walk up to her with the two-year-old.

“Natal-“ He stopped and shook his head. “Sorry Nat, I’m going to get this some day. Natasha, I would like you to meet Cooper Philip Barton. Cooper, this is your Auntie Nat.”

He turned his head into Clint’s neck, peaking out.

“Sorry,” Laura said, coming up the steps. “He’s shy with new people. He’ll warm up to you.” She stroked a finger down his cheek. “Mom’s going to come in and have a piece of pie.”

“But it’s MY pie,” he moaned. “I already share with Natasha.”

“I’ll bake you another one,” Laura said, kissing his cheek.

“Promise?”

“If you promise to peel the apples for me.”

He heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose.”

They went into the house. Laura and her mother sat at the table, talking about people Natasha didn’t know. Clint took the child into the living room, pulling out blocks and building towers so he could gleefully knock them down. Natasha sat on the couch and watched. “Are you training your offspring to be Godzilla?” she asked.

Clint chuckled. “I don’t know. I like blowing things up all right.”

She leaned forward. “You know there are things you can do, even at this age. Games to boost intelligence.”

He looked up at her. “No, Natasha. I mean it. No. This one,” he scooped the little boy up, “is going to grow up normal and happy. And he’s going to be whatever he wants. If his fondest wish is to flip burgers at McDonalds that’s fine. Or run a wrecking ball, or be a custodian. Matter of fact Laura and I will sleep much better at night.”

“You don’t want him to be an agent?”

“I’d be proud, of course, if he wanted that. But I’d rather he meet someone he loves, settle down with her. Grow things. Be happy. Not be shot at all the time, or have buildings blown out from under them. I would be happy if he’s never taught to withstand torture techniques. I want him to be happy and if being an agent would do that for him then I will support him. But I would much rather he have a 9-to-5 and a happy wife.” He paused to look at Natasha. “You know, that’s an option for you now.”

“For me?” she choked out. “Even if it were possible SHIELD would never let me.”

“It would be a loss of a major asset they would much rather have. But we’re not a slave ring. If you were willing to give them information, willing to prove you’re done with your old life, they’d have to let you go.”

“Where would I go? What would I do?”

He shrugged. “Laura would help you out. We could set up an identity. You could go to college. Become anything you wanted.” She blinked, looked to the side, eyes wide. She shivered. “I know,” he said. “I know it’s a lot. Phil, Agent Coulson, offered it to me once. If I wanted out I could get a GED, go to college. It’s scary, having all those options when you’ve never had any. Take your time. Think it over. I have the feeling you couldn’t leave it behind, that SHIELD is the best place for you, and you could absolutely do a lot of good there, but you could always go and try it out, come back to it. It’s worth thinking about.” Cooper sagged in Clint’s lap, his head lolling. “I think it’s naptime for someone.”

That energized the child. “Noooooooooo!” a sudden shriek issued from him.

“Uh oh,” Laura said behind her. “Someone said the n-word.”

Clint blinked up at her. “Completely different connotation in the real world.”

“Come on, grandma’s going to say goodbye,” Laura said, holding out her arms to accept the squalling child.

********************************************

She insisted on taking them horseback riding the next afternoon. It made Natasha nervous since she had never been, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it, so she ended up in the front seat of Laura’s car so that Clint could sit by Cooper in the back.

It was ‘just up the lane’ but it still took fifteen minutes for Laura to turn up a gravel drive. 

Natasha wrinkled her nose when she saw the two ramshackle trailers and the washing machine in the front yard.

She gave Clint a curious look as he took the squabbling child out of the car. He smiled when he came around to put a hand on Natasha’s arm. “They’re old friends of Laura’s.”

“But they’re so…” She waved her hand around.

“Poor,” Clint said. “All they are is poor. They’re good people though. Come on.”

Laura was already on the porch, speaking animatedly to the owner of the house.

They were shown in. The inside of the house was sparse and the carpet was stained but it was clean. The woman of the house, DeeAnn, apparently had gone to school with her. Laura passed Cooper over happily enough after they had cookies forced upon them. They had to spend an hour discussing old friends before Laura left the baby with the woman and led them out to the barn.

It appeared much better kept up than the house. Laura led them in motioning toward the stalls. “What do you think Natasha?” she asked. “Go ahead, look at them. They won’t bite. Well, most of them. Watch out for that big guy on the end.”

“He bites?” Clint asked.

“Used to be a racehorse. Good one too. But it hasn’t helped his disposition.”

“How can these people afford all these horses?”

“They can’t,” Laura said. “Most of them are boarded. But the boarders have a tendency to not pay their bills so they just go on feeding them without getting paid. Which means we get to ride them whenever we would like. What about the quarter horse? She’s a sweet dear.”

“She’s old,” Clint objected.

“And Natasha’s inexperienced. She needs someone a little more laid back.”

“What about her?” Natasha asked, petting the nose of a painted horse.

“Oh, no,” Laura said. “That’s Fidget. You don’t want to ride Fidget. She’s earned her name.”

Natasha turned, lifting her chin as she looked down her nose at Laura. Clint chuckled. “Uh oh. I’ve seen that look.” He went to the wall, lifting down a saddle. “Give it up. She won’t get on any other horse.”

Laura sighed. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Keep your heels out of the stirrup. Rest on the balls of your feet. That way when she kicks you off and makes for the barn she won’t take your ankle with it and break it.”

Clint brought a bay out and saddled it while Laura slipped a bridle on the big guy and readied Fidget. “No saddle?” Clint asked as she led them out.

“I’m feeling a little bareback,” she said with a wink as she walked out.

Clint shook his head. “Not nice to tease when you haven’t let me near you in a week,” he muttered. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“She did just…you know.”

“I know. Just saying.” 

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe it’s a good sign. She’s feeling frisky.” Natasha glanced up at him. “I see the way she looks at you. She won’t be able to hold out long.”

Clint blinked at her a moment. “Thanks. I think.” He paused. “How does she look at me?”

Natasha shook her head and moved into the yard. “Men.”

Laura led them back into the woods, going single file along a game path until they came into a field. Then Laura kicked the horse into a run with a whoop.

Fidget tried to follow but Natasha hauled back hard on the reigns and Clint pressed his mount in front of the horse who pulled up short. Clint shook his head, turning to look at her. “Sorry.”  
Natasha shrugged, waiting for Fidget to stop prancing, then looked up at Clint with a twinkle in her eye. “Well, maybe I’m feeling a little frisky too.” With a laugh she kicked the horse into a run. There was more bouncing than an experienced horse person would have approved of, but she was in no danger of falling out of the saddle. Laura laughed as she caught up with her, shaking her head.

And hour of hard riding brought them back to the stable. Laura laughed at Natasha’s bow-legged walk but the girl watched carefully as Laura instructed her on how to rub the animal down and went to work on her own by Clint.

Laura looked down at the girl, all wild hair out of place and color in her cheeks. “I’m sure she’s something to see all slicked up and in character but you ask me she’s more gorgeous like this.” She grinned over her horse’s back. “I don’t know how you resisted her.”

“Just thought of my beautiful wife back home.”

“Aw,” she sighed.

“And the knots you’d tie my balls into.”

“Damn straight,” Laura responded. “Don’t you ever forget it.”

“No ma’am.”


	29. It's Not a Sewing Room

The next day Clint was waiting for them when they returned from their run. “I wondered if I could take Natasha with me into town today. I could use an extra set of hands.”

“Sure, if she would like,” Laura responded, pulling juice from the fridge. “She’s probably sick of hanging out with Coop and me.”

“Coop and I,” Clint corrected.

“Actually it’s me,” Natasha said. “How is my English better than yours?”

“Guess you’ve had more training,” he answered with a shrug. “I didn’t get past eighth grade, remember?”

Natasha shrugged as she accepted a glass of juice from Laura. “Do I have time to eat and shower?”

“Sure,” Clint said. “You want me to make pancakes or Laura to make eggs?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you take a load off you wife and cook for once?”

Laura laughed, brushing a kiss onto her cheek. “Good girl.”

“Hey, I’m the one who defied orders to save her life. How did she end up on your side?”

“Guess I’m just more likeable,” Laura answered, moving closer to him.

“I’m going to go shower,” Natasha chirped, breaking for the stairs.

She carefully did not mention the fact that Clint’s boxers were on backwards when she got back down after taking a shower that lasted twice as long as she normally would have taken. Or the fact that Laura’s hair had mostly escaped her pony tail, or that the table had mysteriously shifted about two feet from where it had been, or the fact that Clint was just taking the first pancake off the griddle. But she did share a smile with Laura that put color into her cheeks and shook her head at Clint when he waggled his eyebrows at Natasha behind Laura’s back and mouthed, ‘Frisky,’ to her.

An hour later they climbed into the truck and when they turned out of the gravel drive he said, “All right, I need you to tell me everything you know about dance floors.”

Natasha blinked, waiting for her mind to come up with a reason for that statement. Finally she just looked at him. “What?”

“Dance floors. The floors they put down in dance studios. How much to you know about them, Ms. Prima Ballerina?”

“I danced on them, I didn’t install them,” she said. “They’re made out of wood.”

“Thank you, I did know THAT.”

“Why do you need to know about dance floors?”

“I want to put one up in the attic. I want to make Laura a dance studio up there.”

“She wants a sewing room,” Natasha pointed out. 

“I know, but she can sew in one of the bedrooms.”

“But she wants it in the attic.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know how cool it would be to have a studio up there. It’s big and she always complains she never gets to the studio. Plus she likes to teach, usually couples special dances for their wedding or whatever. They could come right over to the house. Wouldn’t that be great?”

Natasha blinked at him for a moment. “But she WANTS a sewing room.”

“Well she’s GETTING a dance studio. And you’re going to help.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. “You do this a lot don’t you?”

“No.” He paused. “It’s an old house, it needs fixing up, you can’t blame that on me. And the attic is just wasted space right now.”

“It would be a really nice sewing room.”

“We are NOT making it a sewing room. That’s boring. Laura deserves a dance studio and that’s what I’m going to build her.”

So Natasha spent the next weeks researching flooring for dance studios and helping Clint special order mirrors, getting Laura out of the house while they were delivered. She learned how to run a band saw and helped lift sheetrock into place. She learned more about cutting glass than she would ever want to know, and actually had to stitch Clint up a few times when he started handling it before putting on his gloves, and once had to take him to the hospital because that was deep and his hands were damn important (“You had better have a good story for Laura,” she’d told him, “because I’m not lying to her for you.” She believed she was told something about a window).

The days settled into a pattern. Up early to run with Laura, helping Clint in the attic, or out on the farm. She didn’t just remodel. She replaced boards on the barn and fixed fences. She helped Laura weed the garden (she liked it far more than she was willing to admit) and pick vegetables, clean them and prepare them. Sitting on the porch snapping beans and shelling peas would become a cherished memory. She helped Clint run the tractor to turn over the potato patch, sifting through the dark earth with her fingers to retrieve the knobby vegetables. Despite being stooped all day it was oddly satisfying. They rode horses and played darts. She read boring, repetitive stories to Cooper, who took to following her around making grabby hands with sticky fingers and saying, “Red, red.” 

She’d never let a man live that called her that, but he didn’t know any better. In a few weeks Laura had him dutifully calling for ‘Auntie Nat’.

He only wanted to eat what was on her plate, only wanted her to refill his milk or give him a treat for using the toilet. It was equally measures endearing and obnoxious.

At night they would put Cooper to bed at 8. And again at 8:10. And usually at least once more after that.

But once the stories were read, the bathroom was visited, the drinks retrieved Laura would go to take a bath. Laura loved her baths. And Clint would follow with a wink.

With the water running and Natasha downstairs she seemed to think they had the privacy to fuck without her realizing. Natasha was a little disappointed she was underestimating her that much, but if it made the woman feel better she didn’t suppose it really mattered. Then they would take a bath together, Laura reading aloud from whatever book she retrieved from the back of the toilet. It was so sickeningly sweet Natasha wanted to vomit.

They finished installing the lights and painted what was left of walls (most of it was mirrors). The sound system was hooked up. She helped him set the barre. And then they were standing in it, looking for any finishing touches they may have missed.

“You think she’ll like it?” Natasha asked.

“Of course she will.”

“She really wanted a sewing room.”

“Would you shut up about the sewing room?” 

Natasha started stretching, watching her lines in the mirror. “She says you do this.”

“Do what?”

“Ignore what she wants you to do and come up with your own ideas.”

He rolled his eyes. “My wife, my house, I’m taking care of it. She doesn’t always know what needs to be done.”

“She lives here,” Natasha pointed out.

“And you know better, Miss I’ve-Been-Here-Five-Weeks.”

She paused. “It’s been five weeks?”

Clint nodded. “This place didn’t build itself.”

“SHIELD isn’t antsy to get you back? Us?”

He smiled. “Coulson knows Laura needs time to work. He’ll give you all the time you need.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Is there something she’s waiting for?”

“She’s not giving you a test,” Clint said. “She’s just doing what she does.”

“Well, let’s see what she does when she sees this.”

Natasha had to carry Cooper because Clint insisted on blindfolding his wife with a tie. He led her up the stairs, not doing a very good job as she kept tripping.

Finally he whipped the fabric away and she blinked around the room. “This….isn’t a sewing room.”

“No, it’s a dance studio. Your own dance studio!” She turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “It’s exciting!”

She turned to look at Natasha who shrugged. “He said you’d like it.”

“It’s…” She stopped to look around. “This is kind of cool isn’t it?” 

Clint’s hangdog look lit up. “You like it?”

“Yeah. I can practice up here. I could give lessons-“

“That’s what I thought!” Clint said.

“Thank you honey,” Laura said, pulling him close to hug him, looking around. “I can’t believe the two of you did all this.”


	30. Christmas on the Farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the Kudos and comment on the last one. You guys are the best.

Without the studio to work on Natasha was quickly bored. Books were boring, TV was boring, Laura’s constant attempts to explain the upside of romantic comedies was boring, Cooper was incredibly boring.

“I’m telling Coulson to find you a job,” Laura said as she folded laundry one night. “Both of you.”

Clint glanced toward the door Natasha had wandered out. “You sure she’s ready?”

Laura shrugged. “There’s only one way to know. Now or later. She’s bored to death here.”

“I’m sure we could find something for her to do.”

Laura shook her head. “She’s a super genius. She needs something. A challenge, a shot of adrenaline, something.”

“I could shoot at her.” Laura gave him a withering look. “You think that’s a bad idea?”

“I’d rather she kill some bad guys.”

So Laura found herself in the front yard with her arms around Clint while Natasha looked away to try to give them a little privacy. Until Laura left his side to wrap her arms around Natasha. “I want you to come back here, first chance you get.”

“Laura, you don’t have to-“

“I mean it.” She tilted the girl’s head up with a smile. “Next time you get a break, make sure this jerk brings you back with him. That’s an order.”

With a shrug she went to Clint’s fallback. “Yes ma’am.”

“And if you need anything. Anything. Just to talk or if you need some peace and quiet, just tell Coulson. You can be back here any time. No questions asked. I promise.”

“All right. Thank you,” she added clumsily.

Shaking her head Laura wrapped her arms around her. “It’s going to be lonely without you. I look forward to having you back.”

Natasha didn’t think too much of it until three months later when Clint planted his butt on top of the papers she was using to type up the report on (Coulson’s glee at her willingness to file paperwork where Clint ignored him knew no bounds) and said, “Two weeks off, let’s head home.”

“Home?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Farm. Laura. Home. It’s Christmas.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you go enjoy some alone time with your wife?”

“Natasha,” he said. “She was pretty clear.”

“She was being nice. And I appreciate it, but really, I’m fine here.”

“Look, Nat, there’s one thing I don’t mess with, and that’s my wife.”

She gave him a look. “She’s a farmer housewife.”

Clint tsked. “You spent seven weeks in our house, you didn’t see more than that? You’re losing your touch.”

“I know she was an agent.”

“She’s way more than that too,” Clint said. “She told me to bring you.”

 

Clint did nothing to warn Natasha of the circus she was walking into. Her first hint was the array of cars parked all over the snow-covered drive. Every light in the sprawling farm house seemed to be on and there was a buzz of voices that could be heard from the porch. Natasha drew back, hiding behind Clint as he let himself into the chaos.

There were people everywhere. Teenagers lounged on the couch, adults stood in groups next to the overflowing tree or leaning against a banister wrapped in garland. Wreaths sent a pine scent through the house, mixing with the smell of baking that suggested Laura was in the area of the kitchen.

A gaggle of children ran by shouting, 10-year olds in the lead with various ages down to toddlers on unsteady legs following.

A woman who resembled a slimmer, taller version of Laura noticed them first. “Clint!” she burst out.

Clint smiled and opened his arms, allowing her to pull him close. “Hey Lil.”

“So they let you out for the holidays?”

“Something like that,” Clint confirmed. “This is my colleague, Natasha,” he added, motioning to the girl behind him.

“Ah, the mysterious Natasha, we meet at last,” she grinned, pulling the girl into a hug.

Natasha’s arms stayed at her sides. “She told you about me?”

“They’re friends,” Clint said. “Of course she did.”

“We’re practically sisters,” Lilly said. “Cousins, technically. Used to spend summers together. This even used to be my house.”

“You help decorate?” Clint hid a wince as Lilly nodded, but Natasha said, “It looks great.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Come on, last I knew Laura was in the kitchen.

Men were arrayed around the table, cards spread before them, and most of the women seemed to be gathered in the warmth of the kitchen, making it crowded without the addition of three people.

Cooper spotted them first, leaning out from Laura’s arms and screaming, “Daddy!”

Laura spun, eyes widening as she took him in. His grin widened as she launched herself across the kitchen and into his arms. Several people laughed as Cooper squawked, trapped between his parents.

When Laura finally pulled back her eyes fell on the girl, now trying to stand exactly as far from everyone as possible. “And you brought Natasha!”

“’Course I did. I was ordered to.”

She grinned, handing Cooper to Clint so she could hug her properly. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Are you sure?” Natasha asked, looking around. “Seems like you might have a full house.”

Laura waved a dismissive hand. “The Cougers are out of town and the Montags have their house up for sale. We’ve rented them out so they sleep there. Your bedroom is all ready for you, just like you left it. With fresh sheets obviously.”

“Obviously,” she mumbled. “How long are all these people going to be here?”

“Three more days. It is Christmas Eve,” she said. “I’m so glad Coulson let you come.”

“Auntie Nat, Auntie Nat,” Cooper started chanting, holding out his arms to her and making grabbie hands so Clint passed him over as a group of tall boys came up behind them.

“Aunt Laura?” one of them broke in.

She turned. “Yes Travis?”

“We were wondering if we could go clear off the pond to play some hockey.”

She shook her head. “Travis, there’s like two feet of snow on the pond and you’d have to clear it by hand. You can’t take the tractor out on the ice.”

“We know,” the group of seven chorused.

She sighed, crossing her arms. “What are the rules?”

“No broken bones, no concussions, everyone can leave the ice under their own power,” the said in perfect unison.

Laura threw up her hands. “If you want to, shovels are in the barn. Have at it.”

With a cheer the disappeared so fast Natasha was surprised there wasn’t a cloud of dust hanging in the air behind them. “Coats,” Laura yelled after them. “Frost bite is not your friend!”  
With a sigh she turned back to the agents, patting Cooper’s head as he continued a wondering story to Natasha that had stopped making sense a few words in. “Are you two hungry?”

“Pie?” Clint asked immediately. Laura and Natasha’s eyes met and then rolled.

Natasha spent two uncomfortable hours trying to sneak upstairs to her room. There were people everywhere, all of them insisting on chatting and asking her how she was. The children regarded her as another relative and hung on her and demanded sweets and stories by turns. With no idea what else to do she got them what they asked for and was satisfied when they went away to join their friends.

Giving up on the stairs she settled for hunkering down on the couch next to Clint who was cradling Cooper. 

One of the teenage boys bounded in, coat, gloves and all, and hurried up to them. “Uncle Clint, you have to come play with us.”

Clint looked up at him, then shook his head. “I’m having some time with my son, Jason. Hockey will have to wait.” He paused. “Take Natasha.”

Laura, who was bringing him a cup of something, choked. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Why?” Clint asked.

“She’s a girl?” Jason offered.

Laura glared. “No. Because she would wipe the floor with you boys. And the goal is to keep you in one piece.”

“She can handle it,” Clint said. “I’ve seen her work. You said yourself. She’s absolutely controlled.” He glanced up at her. “But only if you want to.”

“Please,” she said, springing off the couch.

“Put on a coat,” Laura ordered. “And gloves. It’s cold out there.”

“Wimp,” Natasha accused.

“Hey, I’m from good Norwegian stock. They definitely weren’t wimps.”

“Can she even skate?” Jason asked.

“She’s from Russian,” Clint said.

“I’ll get my skates in the basement. They should fit you.” She rubbed Natasha’s arm affectionately as she went down the stairs. When she returned and Natasha reached for the skates she withdrew them. “What are the rules?”

“No broken bones, no concussions, they walk off the ice under their own power,” she recited.

She offered her the skates with a grin. “Kick their asses.”

As it turned out outside with the boys was a lot more fun than sitting awkwardly in the groups of smiling people. It turned out the scarves and puffy winter coats were more for padding than protection from the cold. The game was more about giving each other bruises than getting the ball (there seemed to be a startling lack of pucks in the Barton household). She particularly enjoyed tripping them with her stick to let gravity and the ice do the work. It wasn’t a challenge but she was having such a good time she completely lost track of time, and Natasha never lost track of time. But suddenly the boys were stopping and looking up, yelling, “Aunt Laura!” and rushing toward the woman climbing over the mound of snow the boys had made clearing the ice, two thermoses and mugs looped over her fingers, Clint following with a cooler.  
They gathered around, warm brown liquid and cookies fresh out of the oven. Clint drew Natasha aside. “Glad they’re all still alive.”

“’Course they are,” she said around a mouth full of cookie. “I think I kept Travis from breaking Jason’s leg once or twice.”

“Well done Agent.” She snickered. “Seriously, if you want to come in you could say I made you.”

“No way. I’m having fun.” She didn’t realize how it sounded until Clint’s eyes widened. Natasha Romanoff didn’t have fun. She didn’t PLAY. With teenagers.

“Good,” Clint said. “That’s great. Just checking. I’ll just…then I’ll be in the house.”

Natasha didn’t say anything as he turned and headed back to the house, arm around Laura. She was too busy examining her word, the girl in her head, who was playing fun games with-

“Come on Natasha,” Jason called. “You’re on our team this time.”

They played a few more games before it got too dark for her to see enough to properly trip them and Laura sent Clint to retrieve them. Given that it was late December that happened about five pm, which meant there was still a house brimming with Laura’s relatives.

The scent of beef hit her the moment she entered the door. Laura was at the oven stirring a pan of gravy while the other women stirred a dish of green beans and another mashed potatoes and added milk. The boys shrugged out of coats and hurried to find room at one of the tables scattered around the room.

Clint guided her to a place near them and began passing the food around.

With all the company exchanging inside jokes and telling stories about people only they knew Natasha was left to eat on her own.

And it was GOOD. Laura’s pie was good, but that was a treat. She didn’t do anything fancy when she cooked. It was good and fresh, heavy on nutrients, she didn’t worry about all the rest. But this, this was something else entirely. It was deep, and thick, and…

It was experience, she decided, looking around at all the women. Between the lot of them they should know how to do it. Although a strange thought came to her as she chewed. Care. The idea that their wish to make it taste good for family, for people they cared about-

She pushed the ridiculous idea away and went back to chewing.

When dinner was over the women crowded around the sink, leaving her no opportunity to pitch in with clean up. The path to her room was open if she wanted to go up and hide, but most of the teenage boys from the hockey game settled into the living room in front of the TV with toy handguns to shoot at the screen.

She watched, intrigued. They’d done something similar in the Red Room. High tech target practice, the children had named it. It hadn’t lasted long. It was a poor substitute for real-life situations. Besides, what was the fun is your target didn’t bleed? Or curse at you? Or spill the information you were after?

She sat surreptitiously in the corner and watched them shoot at the flat screen with the pathetic imitations of guns the game provided, the players being constantly heckled by the watchers.

After about 45 minutes the boys dropped the controllers and announced they were going to see if there were any more of Laura’s cookies sitting around. All but one of them headed for the kitchen.

The one remaining boy, Alex she remembered vaguely, looked up from where he sat toying with his phone. “You could get some too,” he told Natasha.

“So could you.”

Alex shook his head. “I’m diabetic. No cookies for me. You could have mine if you would like.”

She shook her head. “I had plenty to eat.”

He picked up one of the guns and flipped it clumsily. Natasha rolled her eyes. “You think you could do better?” he asked, offering her the ‘weapon’.

She came over and took it, wrinkling her nose. “It’s so light,” she grumbled, turning it in her hand.

“Shouldn’t that make it easier?”

“Not really,” she said, flipping it. She caught it cleanly but still shook her head. “This feels like a toy.”

“It IS a toy,” Alex pointed out.

“I should go get one of my guns, really show you something.”

The kid was looking at her oddly. “One of your guns?”

“Or…well…” This was why she shouldn’t be allowed around civilians. Especially young civilians “One of Clint’s I suppose.”

“They let you use guns?”

“Well you know I work with Clint?” The kid nodded. She flipped the toy again. “And he’s military. So of course I work with guns.” She flipped it a little higher, snatching it easily out of the air.

“Are you playing?” Jason asked, launching himself over the back of the couch, cookie crumbs following him as he munched away.

“I suppose I could,” she said, eying the screen.

“Scared?” Jason asked.

“I could kick your ass blindfolded,” she responded.

“Put your money where your mouth is,” Jason said, grabbing the other controller.

It only took an hour for the kids to get bored. While it took her a bit to get used to the weight of the gun and the way her targets moved on the screen she was too good and the games didn’t last long. She’d beaten each of them twice by the time Clint joined them. “Having fun?”

“No,” the boys chorused while Natasha settled back on the couch with a pleased smirk.

“Hey, Uncle Clint, you know how to use a gun. Do us a favor and salvage a little of our pride,” Travis begged weakly, offering him the gun.

He wrinkled his nose at it. “I’m not the best with a gun. And she is.” He took it and shook his head. “It’s so LIGHT. You may as well use an empty squirt gun.” He aimed at the TV, shaking his head.

It took Clint a while to get used to the aiming and firing but he got the hang of it fairly quickly. Natasha was a little faster but he was a little more accurate and it quickly turned into a contest to see who could distract/block whom. The boys quickly joined in, ignoring Clint’s objection that they were related to HIS wife and they really shouldn’t be taking her side just because she looks better than him in spandex (“I look better than you in EVERYTHING,” she had responded and the boys had jumped to her defense on that one. Although Laura tried to put in a vote in Clint’s defense as she walked by even she had to admit there were some things he just couldn’t pull off).

When that got old the boys suggested they switch to a game that used a controller instead of a gun Natasha tried to resist. They pointed out that there was a lot more strategy and sneaking around to this game but Natasha maintained that was pointless when she could see on the split screen exactly where he was. This led to a mad scramble to set one of them up on a second television and connect them online. Natasha felt it was a lot of work for a video game but the boys’ parents drug them away as it got later and Laura let them go until almost midnight when she turned off the television and informed them it was family time. Natasha tried to sneak off to her room but Laura sat her on the couch and said she wanted to hear all about their SHIELD adventures.

Clint built a fire and Laura brought out steaming mugs. Clint took a sip and nearly spit it out on the rug. Only Laura’s warning look stopped him. “What is this?”

“Apple cider,” Laura said.

“If you hand me a mug of warm liquid it needs to be black and caffeinated.”

“The man has no taste,” Laura complained, handing Natasha a mug. 

She took a drink, then wrinkled her nose. “Is there alcohol in this?”

“I hope not,” Laura said. “I just gave it to a 16-year-old.”

“Actually we found documents suggesting she may have had a birthday recently,” Clint said. “Might be she’s seventeen.”

“Well in Iowa the legal age is 21 my dear, you still have a ways to go.”

Clint shook his head. “Come on Laura, she’s been all over Europe. She puts herself in danger to save lives and kills men and pulls my ass out of the fire.”

“And I’ve been in nearly every swanky bar in Europe.”

“Well in this farm house we do not contribute to the delinquency of minors.”

“As if she couldn’t sneak a whole bottle out from under your nose,” Clint snorted.

“Not helping,” Laura and Natasha said at the same time. Their eyes met and they giggled as Clint moved away from the roaring logs to put his arm around Laura who turned to lay her head on his chest as he ran his hand through his hair.

“I really could just turn in,” Natasha offered. “I’m sure you two would like some alone time.”

“We’ll have plenty of time alone,” Laura said, waving a hand dismissively.

“What do you think of the family?” Clint asked.

“They’re very…welcoming,” Natasha offered.

“She means overwhelming,” Clint said.

“She’s fitting right in,” Laura said. “The boys love you and the only thing they’re usually interested in is beating the snot out of each other with sticks.”

“It helps that she’s good at beating them with sticks too.”

Laura nods. “Secret to a man’s heart, so I hear.”

“Wish I had my bites,” she said, fingering her wrists.

“Please. They’d STILL be out there twitching on the ice,” Clint said.

“You are not under any circumstances allowed to use them on my children,” she informed Natasha.

“Just the nephews?” Clint asked.

“Any time but Christmas I’d encourage it with the nephews.”

“And not Cooper until he’s at least 14,” Clint said.

“What? No, not Cooper ever,” Laura objected

“What if he turns out to be a little shit and he needs to be taught a lesson?”

“He’s not going to turn out to be a little shit.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m raising him, not you,” Laura replied, which got a laugh.

“He still has Clint’s genes,” Natasha pointed out.

Laura leaned forward and conspiratively said (more than loud enough for Clint to hear), “Who said he’s his? I never did. He just assumes these things.” She winked at Natasha with a grin while Clint rolled his eyes and chuckled. “It’s good to have you here, Nat. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you.”

“With the house full you don’t have time to miss me.”

“I do though. And it’s great to see you with the boys. Finding your inner child.”

“She’s kind of like a reverse Pinocchio,” Clint said. “Turning the adult into a child.”

“Speaking of children,” Laura said. “You’ll still be welcome, Natasha, even if the house is about to get a bit more full.”

Clint looked down at her, his hand creeping toward her stomach. “Are you saying….”

She nodded, and Natasha averted her gaze as he pulled her close. “Merry Christmas,” Laura whispered.


	31. Auntie Nat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appoogies for the late post. This one fought me and required some major re-writing.

Looking back, it would almost feel like the farm had sunk into her bones. She had never understood that saying before, had never dreamed she could feel that for a place, couldn’t imagine walls conveying safety. Not in her. But suddenly she would find herself fantasizing about the place in meetings, feeling like her heart was squeezed too tight if she went more than a few months without seeing Cooper and that beloved porch swing.

Clint never again had to prod her to come with him to the farm, and she never hesitated on the threshold wondering if Laura really wanted her there. She was an accepted part of the family, somewhere between a treasured daughter and beloved sister.

The ‘nephews’ would cheer when she walked in the door at Christmases. Somehow Laura sensed her trepidation around the fragile babbling creature that was soon to come into their lives. Natasha was actually relieved when a mission came up just as Clint got the call to join her for the birth. Neither of them had to make excuses to keep her out of a situation that would have made her an uncomfortable third wheel.

Laura hadn’t forced the baby on Natasha, and she’d been happy to devote her time and attention to the three-year-old who was fighting his new status as the less needy child in the house. He bathed in the attention Natasha bestowed on him, and it was far better than anything the babbling fumbling baby could have managed.

She overheard a conversation one night between Clint and Laura when they were taking their nightly bath together. Natasha had volunteered to help out if the kids called so they could take in the hot water and Laura could read to him. She may have been craving Laura’s calm, steady voice.

“What is with Nat and Lila?” Clint asked. “Is it because she’s a baby?”

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” Laura said.

“What’s the rest of it?”

“Well, there is one obvious way she’s different from Cooper.”

“You think it’s because she’s a girl?”

“Clint, look how she grew up. Look what they did to girls.”

There was silence for a moment, then Clint’s, “Oh.” Then, “So she thinks she’s accidentally going to turn our infant into a master assassin/mistress/super seductress?”

Laura laughed. “That may be oversimplifying a bit. And not consciously, no. It may be more along the lines of…she knows some of the dangers out there for women. For girls.”

“So she’s trying not to get attached?”

“Those would be all my guesses.”

“So why don’t you go find out, master psychiatrist?”

“Because it doesn’t really matter. There’s no reason for me to push her. One of two things is going to happen. If it’s because she’s a baby then Lila will get to an age where she’s comfortable with her. If it’s the other thing, Lila will worm her way into her heart. Either way it’s a matter of time.”

“You don’t want to dig through her brain and fix her?”

“I’m in favor of letting her find her way on her own, in her own time. And I have faith that Lila can make it happen all on her own.”

“At the moment she can’t even help pooping in her pants.”

“That will work out eventually too,” Laura chuckled.

Natasha spent a lot of time on the porch swing that night with thoughts crowding her mind.

Neither Clint nor Laura was certain if it was coincidence, Natasha being sneaky, or Coulson fulfilling her request, but she seemed to spend only short stints at the farm in Lila’s first year. Laura was beginning to feel insulted, when it all changed.

Cooper had a soccer game and Lila was sick on one of Natasha’s rare trips home without Clint (she had been injured and Clint didn't trust her to sit idly by while she healed in HQ and he still had to work so he sent her to Laura for guard duty). Laura was struggling to keep the least bit of water and medicine down the girl. Natasha had been watching her rock and hum to the girl for the last 24 hours. 

Cooper had a soccer game and was insisting that he didn’t want Auntie Nat to take him, he ONLY wanted Mommy. Auntie Nat had been at his last two games and Mommy had missed both of them.

Natasha was very certain after all of her spy training kept even a hint of her feelings from her face. Still Laura ran a hand up and down her arm. “He doesn’t mean it,” she said gently. “He just feels like I’ve been neglecting him and he’s trying to tip the scales.”

"I could stay with her so you could go," she offered as Cooper worked himself up to a real fit, screaming and foot stomping included.

"Nat, no. I can't do that to you."

"Seriously, this is important to him. I think I could handle it for two hours." She glanced at the clock. "You just gave her the medicine, her fever should stay down for the next two hours. She'll probably just sleep."

Laura glanced upstairs. "It's been fifteen minutes, which means she is keeping the meds down. She feels better, she'll probably just sleep."

"See? I sit here and watch movies, you go to Cooper's game. No biggie."

She turned to Cooper who had started to really whale and said, "Honestly, Cooper Philip Barton, if you do not stop it right this moment I'm not going on principal alone."

For almost fifteen minutes after they left there had been peace. Then a high moan started, punctuated by cries of, "Mommy!"

Natasha went upstairs, but her appearance did nothing to calm the child. Still, Natasha picked her up and started bouncing as she had seen Laura do a million times. She was rewarded with a wet splat as the baby spilled the meager contents of her stomach down Natasha's front.

She had to put the baby down to slip into a different shirt. By the time she got back the squalling toddler actually quieted when she picked her up again.

Walking smoothly now, no bouncing, she felt the forehead lined by the soft 'baby fluff' (as Laura called it) that was growing into curls. Her forehead felt cool enough, she didn't need the thermometer to know the child's fever was under control. Lila curled her hands into Natasha's shirt and buried her head in her neck, snuffling softly. Natasha ran a hand up and down her back, feeling the child relax against her as she walked as evenly as she could into her parent's bedroom. She lay back on the bed, pulling Laura's pillow close and letting the child breath in her mother's scent.

When they returned home Laura found them there on her way to the nursery. She actually pulled out her cell phone and took a picture, sending it to Clint and Natasha's cell phones. She would never acknowledge receipt of it but Clint would occasionally send a picture taken over Natasha's shoulder that clearly showed it as the background on her (personal, non-SHIELD) phone with the line, 'She's still using it'. 

(This persisted until the next year when Laura snapped a photo of Lila being lifted out of a field full of sunflowers by their red-headed assassin. Then the picture of the trained killer laughing up at the sundressed toddler replaced it.)

After that first picture was taken Laura woke her with a hand on her arm and a gentle smile. "Look who has a maternal instinct after all," Laura whispered, taking the baby as Cooper bounded into the room, hurrying to telling her all about the goal he had scored.

Lila fussed a bit but settled down when Laura started humming to her as she left the noisy big brother behind.

Things certainly changed after that. Lila would lean toward Natasha, with outstretched arms if she didn't immediately respond every time she stepped into the room. She was as eager to gift 'Auntie Nat' with her pointless trinkets and constantly delivered her a pink flowered cup of 'tea' she quickly learned to 'drink' and hand back to the grinning child. She ran to embrace her aunt when she walked in the door instead of hiding behind her mother's legs with shy glances. So much so that two years into the future after long absences from the resident agents she would run right past her grinning father and into the assassin's eager arms.


	32. Ch 31 Cont

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slight addition to the previous chapter. I decided this was the right place for it. So you get two chapters at once this time around, since this is just a mini edition.

“Wait until you have one of your own,” Laura advised one night after the children gave them a particularly hard time and they had to split up to get them both into bed.

Natasha followed her downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to retrieve the glass of wine they’d had with dinner and refill it. Laura raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment when she joined her in the living room. Taking a heavy draw Natasha said, “I can’t have kids.”

“Can’t?” Laura asked.

“In the Red Room. I was…sterilized.”

“Oh,” Laura said. “Nat, I’m sorry, I should have looked at your medical logs. I should have thought.” She shook her head, going to get her own wine. “Of course they would remove that. For weapon designed for seduction it would be nothing but inconvenience.” She came back to rub Natasha's arm. “Does it bother you?”

Natasha turned her glass in her hands. “It didn’t before.”

“Before?”

“Before Cooper and Lila. Before….before I thought maybe someday I would meet a man…” She shook her head and Laura grinned.

“Is there a man?”

“No. No I…I’m not sure I could see that happening any time soon. But maybe. Someday.” She sipped deeply again. “What you and Clint have…”

“Looks kind of appealing?”

“Kind of. Some day. Maybe. When I’m old like you.”

Laura laughed and prodded her with a foot. “He’d be a lucky man. And there are plenty of kids out there that need homes. They’d be lucky too. Just like my kids are.” She hugged the girl close. "Things have a way of working out. Just let it."


	33. Agent Laura Indeed

Natasha found it a little strange that she and Clint got called up for such a minor mission, but she figured Coulson would update them en route.

He was in the cockpit when they boarded so the two agents settled in. He came back before takeoff and opened his dossier so the agents left him in peace. When they reached cruising altitude he finally looked up, but it was Clint he focused on. "You should check out the copilot, Agent Barton," he said, glancing back down at the paperwork. "She's rather good looking."

Natasha stared at him in utter confusion and had actually started composing the email she needed to send Fury saying Coulson had lost it when Clint tentatively moved toward the cockpit, then rushed forward with a surprised, "Laura?"

Coulson only inclined his head toward the cockpit and the unmistakable sound of Laura’s laughter echoed out to them.

"What's she doing here?" she asked Coulson as Clint practically left a cloud of smoke behind him getting in there.

"She was at the base to work with a new acquisition and wrapped up earlier than expected. She had the nanny for two more days and said she'd like to do an active mission. She misses it and it's a good way for her to spend time with Clint."

"Is she even cleared for active duty?"

"It will be an easy mission." He winced as soon as he said it.

"You remember you said that when it all goes to shit."

It didn’t all go to plan but it certainly didn’t go to shit as badly as their jobs usually did.

It had almost been worth it to see Laura in action when they breached the unit. Natasha couldn’t help but be shocked at her capability. It wasn't that she hadn't believed Clint and Phil when they said Laura had been an active duty agent. Of course she had. Had hacked into the file herself to read up on her. It's just that when you spent two years watching a woman cook, clean, chase children, bicker, garden, and do yoga it was hard to picture her in a firefight.

But the moment they stepped off the plane she was in the mode. It was a fairly simple job; get in, download the needed information, get out. A lesser agent wouldn't have taken it as seriously. But Laura was in a practiced crouch, gun drawn, scurrying along behind Strike Team Delta, keeping a careful eye on their backs. They made it easily to the room and Clint and Laura flanked the door, weapons drawn while Natasha went to work on the computer. They chatted back and forth in sign language, stirring every time footsteps approached, Laura stepping back so she was out of the way of the door and less in danger of shooting her husband if the door opened. 

Everyone passed harmlessly by and Natasha finished quickly, stowing the drive and nodding.  
They were three turns and fifty feet of hallway from a clean getaway when, as predicted, it all went to shit. 

Laura didn’t even bat an eyelash. She turned and fired like an agent that had spent the last twenty years in the field. Clint didn’t turn into the overprotective husband but left her to handle herself. Between the three of them they got out so smoothly even Natasha had to admit that she was glad they’d been a 3-man team that night.

Natasha was dreading their return. She knew firsthand how handsey the two could be when they hadn’t seen each other in a while. With nowhere to blow off that steam and the adrenaline from the job she was prepared to watch Laura all but crawl into Clint’s lap while he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

But Laura kept up a steady stream of chatter with Natasha and Coulson as easily as Clint. And while they were certainly touching it was positively PG 13 the entire way.

“I miss this,” Laura sighed, lounging across three seats with her head in Clint’s lap, tapping away at her report on an iPad. Clint was doing the same, his other hand threaded through her hair.

“Offer stands,” Coulson said. “You want a few full time nannies and back into the field we can swing it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not that into it. It wouldn’t be worth the upset to the kids.” She tapped for a moment. “They are getting older. Maybe I could do more of these.”

A smile spread over Clint’s face. “What do you think Agent Romanoff? Want a second partner?”

“She came in handy tonight,” Natasha answered. “I certainly wouldn’t object.” She paused for a moment. “Especially if she cooks for us.”

Laura laughed heartily, shaking her head at the woman. “Love you too Nat.”


	34. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am well aware that I owe everyone a heartfelt apology. I am SO great full for those of you that are hanging on. I don't have the words to express that.  
> I don't want to make excuses, but just so you know what's going on, the basement remodel is progressing (slowly). To offset the cost on top of the waterproofing expense I've picked up some editing work in addition to the full time and part time jobs I already had. This cuts a swath into the already limited writing time which is sometimes more limited depending on how the depression decides to assert itself (I manage it, just some days I do a better job of managing it than others).  
> I do move forward, frustratingly slowly though it may be. Once again, incredibly great full to everyone still here. I hope some of you get a little patter when the new chapter posts.  
> Also, saw Spider-Man today which triggered a slight interlude I may have to write. Visions of Peter getting seriously hurt and Tony stashing him at the farm to heal so that Aunt May doesn't have a heart attack. Or maybe it waits along with the Agents of Shield interlude that has been swimming around in my head for ages.   
> Without further ado, congratulations Ladies and Gentlemen, we have finally caught up to the first Avengers movie.

Three weeks later New York happened.

When it first happened, when Coulson sent the plane to pick Natasha up her first question after Phil filled her in (not that they knew much) was to ask how much Laura knew.

“I thought you would like to tell her,” Phil said, handing her a burner phone.

“Are you bringing her in?”

“No time. And I’m not sure it would be a good idea.”

She made the call. Laura was studiously calm and composed, her voice emotionless.

“I’ll get him,” Natasha said. 

“I know you will, Nat,” she said.

“What do I do when I do?”

“I don’t know. I’m not an expert on alien mind control.” She sighed. “Don’t try to reason with him. If he’s that far gone, I don’t think taking to him is going to break through. Although we both know he didn’t miss Fury and Hill accidentally.”

“So he has some control?”

“He did. Don’t count on it now,” she said. “His control may firm up as we go along. Or may be eroded. He may only be able to resist by degrees. So incapacitate him. If you can get him into restraints until SHIELD can deal with him, do it.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Knock him out. Put him down long enough to tie him down. Go from there.” She could hear Laura chew on a fingernail, old nervous habit that got worse when Clint came home injured. “You might try inducing a seizure medically. It’s a sort of a reset for the brain. May be enough.”

Natasha could hear her shrug. “Keep me updated.”

“I will,” she promised.

“Keep an eye on him,” Laura said. “As soon as he’s back he’s going to want to go after this guy.”

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

Laura sighed. “He’s not Captain America, Nat. He’s not enhanced. He’s just a guy. Righteous indignation is great but I don’t like his odds against a God.” She paused. “My family’s Norwegian. I know more about the mythology of Loki than most.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “Thing about snipers is they tend to work alone.”

“And he’s hard to tie down, I know,” Laura said. “Do the best you can.”

“You know I will.”

“Thank you,” Laura said. Natasha could hear water running. Laura was washing dishes. The consummate worry cleaner.

“You don’t have to thank me. I owe him.”

“Like I’m going to let you get away with that. Even if the two of you hadn’t saved each other’s lives a dozen times, you’d still be doing this. And it wouldn’t be on my say so.”

“I’ll bring him home to you, Laura.”

“Do your best,” she said. “You come home too. If he injures you he’ll never forgive himself. And I won’t be too happy with you either.”

“Yes ma’am,” she responded, praying Laura would get to hear her husband say it.

******************************************************

She called Laura when she had him, keeping a careful eye on the woman’s unconscious husband secured to the bed.

“Is he him?”

“I haven’t talked to ‘him’ yet.” She paused. “His eyes aren’t blue anymore.”

There was a pause. “His eyes have always been blue.”

“No, they were…electric blue. They aren’t now.”

“But he’s unconscious.”

“Right.” Natasha shrugged. “My instinct is he’s back.”

There was a deep breath. “All right. Thank you Nat. Call me back.”

“Will do.”

She didn’t call, she texted. ‘It’s him.’

There was a pause. Then, ‘He’s going after him?’

‘He’ll be safely on a roof shooting at him.’

Laura didn’t respond. Natasha heard her shuttering sigh without benefit of a phone line. Laura of all people knew better, but she had to try.

She heard the deeper, more releaved sigh just as clearly when she texted, ‘It’s over, he’s fine,” before falling into bed.

When they woke she wanted nothing more than to stuff Clint onto a plane bound for Iowa and into his wife’s arms. He wanted to take her car, making some joke about wanting to take over her baby that lacked his usual edge. She wasn’t sure if he wanted the time to make sure there weren’t any lingering traces of the villain hiding in his head, or just wanted to get his feet under him. 

Probably both. She agreed to drive to Iowa although that was one long-ass boring ride. Although shorter since they didn’t have to go through the endless expanse of Nebraska.

Especially with Clint being uncharacteristically quiet. He didn’t even sleep. He just stared silently out the window. For 18 hours, not counting the hotel she insisted they stop at. He offered to drive while she slept but she was a) not letting him drive her car the whole way and b) scared enough of his driving (in a ground-running vehicle anyway) that she didn’t want to see him doing it after 48 hours without sleep.

She expected him to loosen up as they got closer, but if anything he seemed to tense more. As much as she could tell with the same silence. She would have actually been worried if it hadn’t been Laura she was bringing him back home to.

He didn’t loosen up as she came down the driveway, and when Clint got out of the car Natasha hurried out of the driver’s seat just in case as Laura came down the steps. 

Laura opened her arms and he stepped into them, buried his head in her neck, and MELTED into his wife. Laura looked over his shoulder and mouthed ‘thank you’ to Natasha before she put an arm around him and led him upstairs. Immediately the bathroom door closed and the water started running in their bathroom. Natasha dropped Clint’s bag unobtrusively inside the bedroom door and settled into the guest room, noting the absence of the kids.

She went back downstairs and raided the fridge, allowing herself only one piece of Laura’s pie before camping out on the couch with one of Laura’s afghans over her legs.

About an hour later she heard the couple exit the bathroom and settle into the bedroom. She had almost drifted off when she heard a light tread down the stairs. “I’m sorry,” Laura said when she looked up. “Should I let you nap?”

“I’d be in the bedroom if I was worried about it. He’s out?”

“Like a light. Any idea when he slept last?”

“He got some last night, but not much. Before that, it was a while.”

Laura sighed, shaking her head as she put the tea kettle on. “Did you get some pie?”

“Delicious as always.” Laura smiled at her. “Kids with your parents?”

“At Lily’s.”

“Ah.” She toyed with the fringe on the blanket. “He all right?”

Laura shrugged. “Maybe not yet. Don’t worry Nat, he will be.” She walked over to put a hand on the girl’s arm, knowing her well enough to avoid the awkwardness of a hug. “You did well, Nat. Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Always Laura.” She stretched. “It’s a relief, having him with you.” She glanced around. “Want me to just get out of here?”

“Don’t you dare,” Laura ordered, earning a smile from the woman. “You deserve a break too.” When Natasha opened her mouth Laura shook her head at her. “I know you’re a badass and more than capable of handling all this. Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some down time and a little coddling of your own.” She sat on the couch. “Besides, we haven’t had a chance to talk in ages.” She leaned comparatively toward Natasha. “What’s Tony Stark like?”

Natasha groaned. “TELL me you aren’t one of his fan girls?”

“Me?” Laura shook her head. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but charming, rich, and brilliant isn’t really my type.”

“Clint is no slouch,” Natasha objected.

“He isn’t. He’s very smart. I just don’t know that he’s brilliant, certainly not on that level anyway. Doesn’t mean I’m not curious.”


	35. Settling In

Despite the fact that Clint slept most of the afternoon he still fell into bed early with his wife. At 3 am Natasha was awakened by the sound of his yell. She raced down the hall to find Laura leaning over him while her partner lay on the bed covered in sweat as he gasped for breath. Standing in the doorway Natasha watched Laura spread his hand and press it to her chest. “Breath with me,” she said, no emotion in her voice. “Feel my heart beat. Stay with me. In….and….out.”

He followed her, eyes wide as he worked hard to bring his breathing under control. Without looking up Laura said calmly, “Nat, would you get the black case out of the back of my closet?”

Natasha jumped, surprised the woman even knew she was there, but scurried to obey, setting the bag at the foot of the bed. “I’ll be right back,” Laura said, kissing Clint’s forehead. His hand caught at her but she soothed it. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I won’t leave the bed.” He nodded shortly and Laura withdrew, pulling out a bottle and filling a syringe.

“No,” he gasped when Laura reached for his arm. “Laura, I don’t want to sleep.”

“Shhh,” she whispered. “You won’t. This is just going to calm you down.”

She waited for his nod before she injected it, smiling and running a hand down his face before capping the needle and stowing it in the bag.

“Nat,” she said in the same even voice as she settled next to him, putting his hand back over her heart, “in the bathroom on the back of the toilet, could you grab my book please?”

She hurried for it, kicking herself for not thinking of it. Laura loved baths the way most people loved their beds. She was happier in no space more than a tub full of hot water and bubbles with a book in hand. And Clint loved to join her, insisting she read aloud to him, no matter what she was reading or how lost he was with no idea of the story line. Her voice was as magical as the warm water and quiet bathroom.

Natasha had spent more time than she was willing to admit sitting outside the bathroom door lulled by the same voice. She was fairly sure Laura knew, would in fact invite her in if she weren’t afraid of embarrassing her. Which she was grateful for.

She returned with the book, offering it to Laura as she leaned close to murmur over her husband. She glanced at the book and waved toward the bed. “Sit. Read.”

“Me?” Natasha asked.

“Sure.” She smiled up at her. “Read it in Russian. I could use the refresher.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

She glanced at Laura, climbed onto the bed and opened the book, looking at Clint before opening and reading in perfect, upper-class Russian.

Unfortunately it was a truly ridiculous romance novel that made her want to vomit. Fortunately Laura only let it go on for fifteen minutes before she released Clint’s hand and patted Natasha’s leg. “You can stop now.”

Natasha looked at Clint, eyes closed, breathing deep and measure. “You lied to him.”

“Semantics,” Laura said. “He wasn’t worried about sleeping, he didn’t want to dream. He’s out too deeply, he won’t. He wasn’t really in a place to discuss the difference. And he needs to sleep.”

“You don’t think he’ll be pissed when he wakes?”

She shook her head. “He isn’t going to dream. He’ll be fine.”

Natasha set the book aside, looking at the bags under his eyes. “He doesn’t look fine.”

She smiled fondly down at her husband. “Not yet.” She reached out and took Natasha’s hand. “He’s got us to help out. This is a process. It will take time. There will be more nights like this. But we’ll get him through it.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“Back at you,” she said with a grin. She glanced down at him. “My husband the Avenger. Thor, Iron Man, Captain America, and Clint Barton.”

“He fits in better than you’d think,” Natasha said. “Hey, they took Black Widow too. They’re not so picky.”

Laura smiled up at her. “I’ve always known you had it in you, Nat.”

“So does he. So do you, come to that.”

“Yeah, but he’s just a guy Nat. He could get hurt.”

“He already did,” Natasha pointed out.

“He always knew that was a possibility, although I doubt either of us imagined this.”

*************************

 

“Clint,” Laura called from the bathroom door. “Would you PLEASE stop stalling and come to bed.”

“I’m not stalling,” he denied around a mouth full of toothpaste. Which was getting a little disgusting considering that his toothbrush hadn’t been in his mouth in at least three minutes while he stared listlessly into the sink.

“Maybe I can think of a way to tempt you into the bed.”

He glanced back at his wife, standing in the doorway in something purple, lacy, and just opaque enough to tease. His mouth fell open and some toothpaste dribbled out and down his front.

He turned quickly to spit into the sink and turned back to find his wife standing in front of him, pecking him on the lips shortly before sinking down to her knees before him, following the trail of toothpaste down his front with her tongue. He made the mistake of looking down, and she HAD to choose that moment to glance up as her tongue traced his navel. He had to close his eyes and look away.

It had been a while. SHIELD had been keeping him busy and he hadn’t been home in a while, and when he had Lila had been going through a clingy period that involved climbing into their bed a lot more than was healthy for a marriage, and he had been so exhausted last night all he wanted was to crawl into bed.

“Laura-“ He had to stop and take a breath as her hands ghosted over his boxers. “Laura, I haven’t been fifteen in a long while, but you’re starting to make me feel like it.” He sighed as her hand crawled up his leg under his boxers. “This is going to get messy if you don’t stop that.”

“Then maybe we should take it to bed,” she suggested. 

When she stood and took his hand to lead him to the bed his head cleared and he said, “I know what you’re doing.”

“Sleeping with my husband?” she asked, drawing him close. 

“Getting me to bed. Putting me to sleep.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Laura-“

“You’d rather toss and turn and fight it?” His mouth tightened. “Come on baby. It’s been a while for me too.” 

He sighed as she pushed him back onto the bed and crawled up over him, grinning to kiss him, then started down his body again. When her breath ghosted over his underwear he said, “Laura.”

“Hm?” She looked up at him.

“I think…maybe you should…would you tie me up?”

She sat up, raising an eyebrow and startling him. “That’s a new kink.” She ran her hands up his arms, laying them over his head, her fingers running over his hands. 

“It’s not a kink. It’s just…I don’t, I just think it could be a good idea.”

She leaned close, lips brushing over his cheek. “Why?”

“Just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case…he’s still…here.”

“Here?”

He shifted his hand down to touch his temple without fighting her grip. “Here.” He looked away, suddenly studying the pillow. “You…Laura what you do to me. You disarm me. I’m weak when you do this to me. I’m not complaining, I trust you enough to do that. But, if there’s anything left, if there are any cracks he’s hiding in, that’s when he’s going to strike.”

“I’m a trained agent, Clint. That hasn’t changed.”

“I just…please. Just once.”

She studied his eyes, then nodded. “Just this once,” she said, hopping off the bed with a little wiggle in her hips that made him groan and hide his head in a pillow. He heard her digging in the closet. “I happen to like your hands on me,” her voice floated back.

His cocky grin came back and he shifted more fully onto the bed, getting closer to the headboard. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You better.” She came back, handcuffs in her hand. “And I’ll have you know,” she clicked one set around his wrist, “I am going to take full advantage,” his right arm was secured to the bed, “of this opportunity.” She pressed the metal around his left wrist, kissing it as she secured it to the headboard, leaning back to look at him. “Feel better?”

“You could say that.”

“Here you are completely at my mercy.”

“I am that.” She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against the fabric in a way that made him groan. He pulled automatically against the cuffs and Laura tsked. “Already?”

He moaned. “Let me get my mouth on them. Just a little.”

She grinned, pressing a finger over his lips. “No way. You bite.”

“I promise to be good,” he said, kissing the digit. He opened his mouth, his tongue just starting to make contact before she removed it.

“I don’t trust you,” she informed him with a grin, leaning down to run her tongue over his nipples. 

He moaned, tugging at the metal. “No fair.”

“Full advantage,” she whispered, kissing down his chest. He flexed, watching her grin as his abs stood out, glancing up at the arms pulling against the metal. She hummed in the back of her throat. “You are very pretty like this. Watch out, I may get used to it.”

“Anything you want,” he promised. His hips jumped when her hands ghosted over the bulge in his underwear. “Fuck, Laura.”

“That’s the plan,” she said, pressing the fabric out of the way and nuzzling into him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his hands balled into fists, trying to control his breathing. That failed completely when she ran her tongue up his underside, and began to hyperventilate when she continued to lick long strips up his dick.

“Laura,” he choke/panted out.

“Oh, I could get used to that,” she whispered against him.

“Laura.” He stopped to swallow, flexing his head back. “Laura, it’s been a while. If you keep that up…”

“Yes?” she whispered against the sensitive head.

“Laura,” he keened.

“Use your words,” she suggested, running her tongue over the moisture beading there.

“Laura, I want to fuck you.”

“Hm, hardly in a position to be making demands,” she observed.

“Please?” he tried.

She leaned up, crawling over him, the vision before him making him moan. She chuckled, catching his head and meeting his eyes. “There’s my pretty husband.” She leaned forward to kiss him. “Those eyes I fell in love with.”

“Not too blue are they?”

“Not a glow in sight. My favorite color, not that I’ve ever been able to name it. What color is that even? Grey-blue-green?”

“Desire,” he whispered.

“Hm, certainly that,” she grinned. She spread the short skirt, the trailing ends of the translucent teddy riding up on her thighs as she pressed over him.

He cried out as she put him into place. She chuckled, leaning forward with her hands on his chest. He blinked hard, moisture running down his face. “God Laura-“ He cut off with a choked moan.

“Feels good?”

“Far better than I deserve.”

Her nails bit into his chest. “Only you,” she whispered, rocking forward. “Rest of my life, only you.”

He sighed. “Oh Laura. God I’m a lucky man.” She moved again and he sighed. “Laura, God I want to feel you come.”

“I’d need your fingers for that,” she said. “Want me to untie you?”

“Not yet!” he gasped out. “Come on Laur, you can do it.”

She didn’t pause. “Hm, that’s a gift that only my husband has. I’m afraid my fingers don’t do it.”

His eyebrows rose. “What do you do when I’m not home?”

“Mechanical intervention,” she said. “I can introduce you two if you like,” she chuckled.

“I don’t know if my ego can take it.”

“I much prefer my husband’s very talented callouses.”

He sighed, his eyelids fluttering as she moved. “That’s good.”

She leaned forward, running her hands up his arms, whispering, “I love you.”

He leaned up to catch her lips, trying to be patient and wishing desperately he could grab her hips and coax her into moving faster, wished her could slip a hand between them to press the slick glide into the familiar clench of her muscles and the shuttering groan of her pleasure. Wished he could sit up and pull her close and-

“Laura, if you don’t move faster I’m going to go completely insane.”

“Is that supposed to scare me or convince me? I’m not sure you have enough sanity left to bother with anyway.”

“You want to hear me beg?”

“Might help. The mighty Hawkeye at my mercy.” She raised an eyebrow at his response to that. “Oh, you do like that don’t you?”

“It has a ring,” he murmured, groaning when she picked up the pace.

She continued to move her hips, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, “The Mighty Hawkeye all tied up and at the mercy of a pathetic little housewife.”

He snorted. “I’ve seen you action.”

“You certainly have,” she chuckled.

He sighed, panted. “Laura, I’m…”

“Come on Hawkeye. Show me what my badass super hero husband can do.”

He closed his eyes, his muscles standing out in sharp relief as his arms tugged at the restraints.

She grinned, stilling to let him catch his breath. “Can I uncuff you now?” she asked when he opened his eyes to give her a sloppy grin.

“Sure. Think I’m in control of all my faculties. Or nearly.” He paused as she unlocked the cuffs, helping him massage them. “Where did the cuffs come from?”

“I don’t have to tell you all my secrets,” she said, clicking her tongue and taking them back to the closet. But she smiled as she came back to bed. “Just in case anyone wanders onto the property I have to cuff. I am still Agent Beddington, hard to shake that.” She settled onto his chest, sighing as he wrapped his arms round her. “Or if the kids get out of hand.”

He chuckled. “Like you’d ever.”

She shrugged and yawned into his chest. "Desperate times." She sighed heavily. "Sweet dreams Hawkeye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for hanging in there. There was a computer meltdown followed by a baby blanket and some Christmas gifts that served as a major distraction. I am making a resolution to update more regularly. Although I'll admit resolutions aren't my forte I am putting forth the effort.


	36. Checking In

"Hey Nat," Laura greeted into the phone.

"Hey Laur. Is it a good time?"

"Actually it is," Laura said.

"What are you doing?" 

"Laundry. You?"

"Writing a report."

"Anything interesting?"

"Yep."

"Anything you can discuss over an unsecured line?"

"Nope."

Laura laughed. "Remember when you said you would never use such remedial Americanisms as 'yep' and 'nope'?"

"Yes, I do. I was buttering you up. I need some advice."

"It's so nice to be needed."

"This is a big one."

"Sounds fun."

"They want me to work with the Hulk."

Laura paused. "So?"

"So how do I say no?"

"Natasha Romanoff, are you scared?"

"No." Silence stretched between them. "He almost killed me on the helicarrier."

"Clint has done that a few times. Remember that time he knocked you off the edge of the helicarrier?"

"He caught me. The Hulk is just so...unpredictable."

"And he deals in emotions," Laura added. "Never your strong suit."

"You're the only one allowed to say that."

"So what are you supposed to be doing with him?"

"Helping him transition back into Bruce."

"Why you?"

"Bruce says the Hulk...responds to me. On a female level."

"So he's like every other man. Why is this a problem?"

"Because I'm supposed to calm him down. Which is not my strong suit."

"Also you can't kill him."

"Couldn't if I wanted to."

"Fair point. And your usual methods...is that even physically possible?"

"Laura, could you please get your mind out of the gutter? Also you read the medical reports, wouldn't you know?"

"Who said I read the medical reports?"

"Even if I didn't KNOW you had a medical interest you would have done it out of curiosity when Clint started working with him. So master psychologist what do you suggest?"

Laura sighed. "All right. Well he's not just a guy with anger management issues. He's more like an overgrown 3-year-old throwing a temper tantrum."

"Great. Because kids are my specialty."

"You've watched me with mine. You've had plenty of practice with Cooper and Lila."

"He's a 500 lb superhero that can destroy a building. I can't put him in time out."

"No, you're looking to calm him down. So how about a lullaby?"

"You know I can't sing."

Laura smiled at the poison dripping from the words. It seemed to be the one feminine talent the Black Widow hadn't mastered. Laura had offered to teach her. She thought with the dance experience it would be easy.

And it wasn't that she was bad at it. She started out mediocre. She just didn't improve quickly enough to satisfy herself. To be fair she was brilliant and in perfect control of her body so physical activity came naturally. But this took something else. With work she could have become something more than proficient, but she didn't have the patience to work up slowly.

"It wouldn't have to be a song. A poem can work as well. 'Goodnight Moon' him or something."

"You want me to read a children's story to green rage monster?"

"Not a bad idea. Maybe a comforting gesture."

"Like what?"

"Well, with Cooper I would run my fingers through his hair."

"He's ten feet tall. I would need an extension ladder."

"Hm. Well, how many hours have we spent holding Clint's hand in the hospital? I know you couldn't hold his hand but...maybe it's a place to start. Ask Dr. Banner what he thinks."

"Seems like good advice."

"Is there anything you want to tell me about Bruce?"

"He's Bruce now?"

"I thought maybe you were on a first name basis."

"What are you trying to get at?

"Historically the Hulk 'responds on a female level' to the women Banner has an interest in."

"I'm the only woman on the team."

"Hm, my sense is there's something more."

"Well if I didn't want to run away before..."

Laura laughed. "Keep me updated. I'm curious how it turns out."

"Well if you don't hear from me it's hopefully not because I'm a smear on the wall."

"The first few times have Thor and Stark on hand just in case. I trust they'll take care of you."

"Not your husband?"

"I don't want him to be a smear too." She laughed. “Nat, if Banner is connected to you you’re safe from Hulk. Banner has a better sense than he’s willing to admit. I wouldn’t suggest anything that I thought was dangerous for you.”

“I know that,” Natasha asserted quickly.

“Good. Tell my husband to call when you see him. I miss his stupid voice.”

“Sure thing, Laur.”

“And you call more often. I miss your stupid voice too. A visit wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“I’ll keep in mind. We’re sort of putting together a team here. Ironing out the kinks…well these people aren’t instinctively team players. Besides Cap.”

“Time was you weren’t either. I have faith in you. And if you need any psychological advice you know my number.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've received several Kudos. Due to added motivation here's a small update. Still plugging away.


	37. Age of Ultron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're into AoA territory.
> 
> Thank you for the additional likes. I'm always shocked they keep coming. I keep on pushing forward slow though the progress may be. Thank you as always for hanging in.

It WAS just a normal day. The kids had been outside a lot, although she had called them in and settled them down; Lila to color and Cooper to his video games in order to try to calm them down a bit. She was trying to talk Lila into a nap and had just sent them upstairs to play in their rooms and was cleaning up the kitchen table when she heard the screen door slam. She had paused, straightening her bulk, then heard, “Honey, I’m home.”

Her brow knit as she moved into the living room. Clint was supposed to be on a mission, he had just called-

There they were. Clint in his SHIELD gear, Nat looking like she’d been hit by a car as she stepped back into the corner, Tony Stark in sweats, Captain America in full regalia including the shield on his back, Thor with hammer, cape, and armor.

She blinked as Clint pulled her in, taking in the super heroes in her dull Midwest living room, in her great aunt’s living room with profiles on the wall, shuffling their feet.

And then of course the kids and their supernatural ability to sense Clint’s presence went barreling past the Gods in their living room and into their father’s arms, and of course Lila wanted her Aunt Nat, which turned Natasha away from where she was trying to melt into the corner, scooping the little girl up.

She shifted into hostess mode, trying to fit everyone in, at least finding room for them to wash up and get their heads together. Seeing Nat shaken twisted her stomach more than she was willing to admit. She didn’t know much about the normal behavior of the rest of the group but she could feel the tension crackling between them.

Nat was settling in and Bruce heading for a shower. She suggested chopping wood for Steve and Tony, hoping the physical activity would give them an outlet for their frayed nerves. As Tony strode out to the wood pile she headed upstairs to check on her husband.

He had changed already, but was all too happy to show her the new and improved flesh in his side. She ran her fingers over it, shaking her head, stuck between reassuring him and voicing her fears.

She settled for cleaning, taking his discarded clothing to the hamper as he went to the walk-in closet he’d helped build (the master suite had once actually been two rooms but Clint had insisted on tearing down the wall while she was pregnant with Lila to give her the “space she needed”-if it wasn’t for Nat she was pretty sure the resulting hormone-fueled fights could well have ended their marriage). 

“What about Nat and Dr. Banner?” she couldn’t help slipping in. “How long has THAT been goin’ on?” She couldn’t help poking just a bit. Let him think her brilliant deductive reasoning was giving her hints. She was fairly certain he knew nothing about the calls Nat had been making to the farm to try and get advice out of Laura without letting on. For a super spy she was surprisingly transparent, and horribly naive to believe she could keep something like that from a trained psychiatrist that had watched her shed the brainwashed spy persona to become the woman before her.

Apparently the transparence was lost on Clint. He blinked at her. “What?”

She laughed. Oh her clueless husband. “You’re so cute.”

“Nat? And…Banner?”

 

“I’ll explain when you’re older…Hawkeye.” She shook her head. She didn’t want to admit how strange it was, seeing her husband slip from the Agent Barton she’d worked with years ago into the super hero nickname-turned-codename.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“It’s pretty bad right? Nat seemed pretty shaken.” And if the unshakable Black Widow could take a hit like that….

She left it unsaid. He seemed remarkably intact.

She couldn’t help but think, as he spoke about Ultron’s allies who just misled kids, sitting in a chair while she brushed the back of his neck in a habit that soothed both of them, that she could imagine lost children that needed help more than anything else. And she was glad the man describing them as punks, the father who had just gathered his children, would have some say in their fate. That there was someone on the team who could see it too. She worried about him, being normal, being just a man with these powerful people, but she couldn’t help thinking it was a perspective they desperately needed. She tried to find the words to express that as they looked down at the unlikely duo in their yard.

Clint dove into fixing the rotten portion of the porch that could endanger a toddler despite Laura’s objection that Nathaniel wouldn’t be toddling for 7 more months; both kids glued to his side. She went into the kitchen to try to come up with something that would satisfy a medically modified supersoldier, a billionaire that probably had an oncall chef 24/7, and a man that had just transitioned into a giant green monster and back. Something with protein, she figured, wishing she had more homemade bread on hand as she eyed the basement stairs that led to the freezer. It was always Nat’s favorite and she looked like she could use the soothing comfort.

She was completely unsurprised when she turned from her work pressing dough into the bottom of a casserole dish at the sound of the door found the tall black man in the eye patch and the long coat stepping into her kitchen. 

“Good evening, Agent Beddington.”

“It’s just Laura on the farm, Nick. Or at least Mrs. Barton.”

“I’d never do you the disservice of saddling you with Clint’s moniker,” he objected

“I’m not going to ask how you knew they were here,” Laura said. “I’m just going to hope it isn’t because you bugged this house.”

“I know your husband, Laura,” he said. “And I can track the plane.”

“Or how you got here so quickly.”

“That is above your pay grade,” he agreed.

“I meant to talk to you about that,” she said. “My checks stopped coming when SHIELD fell. We have a nice nestegg and I know how to make it last but I still have three college funds to consider and the constant fallout from Clint’s home improvement projects aren’t cheap. I’m not complaining about Clint’s Avenger salary but I am still pitching in for SHIELD and I was made promises.”

“Unfortunately Phil is a little low on SHIELD funds at the moment. I’ll talk to Hill. I’m sure she can divert some Stark funds your way.” He glanced out the window toward the man in question. “An argument could even be made that you’re earning it today.”

“I’m not looking for money that isn’t rightfully mine.”

“It is. We’ll fix it.” His eyes were glued to the men in the front yard.

“Divide and conquer?” she asked.

He nodded. “Think you could call Stark away? Think I should start with him.”

She nodded. “I’ll ask him to look at the tractor in the barn.”

“As if Laura Beddington has ever needed help with a tractor.”

“Well he didn’t know I existed before an hour ago, I doubt he knows my mechanical prowess.” She pushed a mixing bowl with a whisk in it toward him along with a dozen eggs. “Beat those up for me.” His eyebrows rose. “If I’m going to go round up your wayward Iron Man you can help me get dinner in the oven first.”

Nick made no further comment, cracking the eggs into the bowl and whisked them with perfect efficiency, pouring them over the prepared quiche she pushed toward him. He even helped chop a few vegetables before he said, “It’s getting late, Laura.”

She gave him time to sequester himself in the barn before going out in the yard.

She hadn’t been sure putting Steve and Tony together was the best idea, but when she asked the boys to chop wood she’d hoped the physical activity would let them shake off the nerves and focus on something other than their spinning heads. It might have worked better, she thought in retrospect, if she hadn’t given the job to a man that could apparently do it as easily with his bare hands as an ax.

She hurried out at the sight of the two of them nearly nose-to-nose, kicking herself for letting domestic issues distract her from keeping an eye on them. The tractor was a good excuse to send Tony off and she breathed a sigh of relief when he stocked off and Steve returned to the splintered wood.

Clint was waiting for her on the porch when she headed back toward the kitchen. “What was that?”

“Nick’s in the barn,” she said, pitching her voice low. “Wanted a word with Tony.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “He’s Tony already?”

“Am I supposed to call him Anthony?” Laura asked, throwing a grin over her shoulder. “Mr. Iron Man Sir?”

“Like his head wasn’t big enough,” Clint groaned. “And why is Fury at MY house talking to Tony first?”

“I’m sure he’ll get to you.” She dabbed flour onto his nose. “And technically he was talking to me first.”

“He always liked you better.”

“He’s known me longer.” She paused. “And let’s face it, I’m the likable one. Give them a few minutes, the rest of the team will probably decide they like me better too.”


	38. Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I feel especially bad. And hypocritical. I've been begging one of my favorite authors for a new chapter and realized how badly I've been under performing on this. I wanted to be caught up by Infinity Gauntlet and...well obviously that isn't happening. So here's a tiny little bit I managed to eek out this weekend. I haven't given up and hope for better things in the future.

Dinner was mostly silent, the kids in awe and the Avengers with a lot to discuss that they couldn’t say in front of the kids.

Laura chased Cooper up to his room and set Lila up in the office painting, coming back to clean up while the group got down to business.

“Should we be discussing this in front of the W-I-F-E?” Tony interrupted Fury as Laura started clearing plates.

She paused and raised an eyebrow at Fury, who snorted.

“The W-I-F-E can S-P-E-L-L,” Clint pointed out, sipping from the coffee cup she handed him.

“Aside from me Laura has been an agent longer than anyone in this room,” Fury said.

A startled silence settled over the kitchen as Laura continued to clear.

“I told you!” Tony burst out. “I said she was an agent!”

“Brilliant deduction Sherlock,” Natasha muttered, shaking her head.

“She’s a damn good one too,” Fury put in. “And if no one has any objections I wouldn’t mind her input.”

“I don’t know that I have much to add,” Laura said, leaning against the counter. “I can’t help with Ultron. AIs aren’t my specialty, they’re not human enough. But these kids…” She shook her head, crossing her arms. “I mean, bear in mind you’re dealing with teenagers under a mountain of PTSD that are just figuring out their new powers. They’re confused, they’re scared. They’ve been passed around and used their whole lives. By Hydra, by Ultron, probably at the orphanage long before that. I doubt they have any idea what’s really going on.”

There was silence for a minute. “You think we can turn them?” Steve asked.

“It’s at least a possibility.” Laura shrugged. “I doubt they have any real interest in seeing anyone else hurt. God knows they’ve seen enough of that.” She tapped her fingers on her arm. “I think they deserve at least a chance.” She shrugged. “For what it’s worth. I’m not an avenger. But everyone in this room knows what it’s like to find out they were on the wrong side. Including me. And you didn’t let it stop you.”

****************

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring into the blank TV in the darkened living room, sipping his glass of water, when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. He turned to watch Laura carefully navigate her bulk down the stairs and move to the dripping sink.

“Sorry,” he offered as she turned it on for a moment, pressing it the left to run the water hot and then shut it off, dripping absent. “I think that was me.” He held up the glass.

“My fault,” she said. “You have to run the hot for a minute. I keep meaning to fix it.”

“Maybe I could help Clint do it tomorrow.”

She snorted. “I’m the plumber in this house.”

She could almost make out his eyebrow rising in the dark. “Really?”

She nodded. “He’s good at the wood stuff. Framing, definitely destroying. But plumbing is mine.”

“What about electrical?”

“Brother-in-law supervises.” She paused. “My cousin’s husband actually. But we’re close. In that case Clint is allowed. I’m the mechanic.”

“When you don’t have the head of Stark Enterprises to do it.”

She snorted. “I’d rather do it.” She filled her own glass. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m all set.”

She came over to lean against the back of the couch. “Did they tell you what I was doing for SHIELD after the kids?” He shook his head. “I was offering psychological counselling. I have advanced degrees in counseling and psychotherapy specializing in PTSD.”

He groaned. “Who sent you after me, Fury or Clint?”

“They didn’t have to.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I know your story as well as anyone. I was in SHEILD. I mean you becoming a personal hero is sort of a requirement by the end of the third year of training or they start to think you’re Hydra. Especially when you know Peggy Carter. For what it’s worth, she was a friend. A mentor. She was…” 

“Hard to define?” he offered.

She laughed. “A challenge. I had a few sessions with her.: She winked at him. “Everything you’ve been through, having some issues isn’t a weakness anymore. I’ve lost people to this.” She paused, sighed. “A cousin I was very close to. Named Cooper.”

Steve nodded. “Ah.”

“It’s not completely accepted by a still vaguely ignorant society but we’ve come a long way.” She patted his shoulder. “If you ever want someone to talk to, Clint or Nat can always give you my number. That offer doesn’t have an expiration date.”

He nodded. “I appreciate that. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anyone would be overwhelmed in your place.” She leaned forward to tap his temple. “No amount of supersoldier serum can fix that.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Thought brought a smile to her face. “Sleep well Cap. Just yell if you need something.”

“Will do.”


End file.
